Anathema
by kungfuwaynewho
Summary: Delenn finds herself the target of an official assassination order. She and John go on the run, trying to keep one step ahead of the assassins as they race for a plan to spare her life. Set mid-S2, spoilers through S4 and "In the Beginning."
1. Chapter 1

**One: A Knife in the Dark**

"Attention. We are making our final approach. Please turn off all electronics and hyper relays, stow all carry-ons, drop any refuse into the aisle incinerators, and make sure your harness is securely fastened. We thank you for flying Omnia Transports. Welcome to Babylon 5."

Anyenn dutifully put his reader away. There had been words on the screen, and occasionally he had swiped at the corner to turn the page, but he hadn't been reading. The reader had been for the benefit of the other passengers, for anyone who might have glanced his way. It was important that he blend in and look like everyone else. Just another traveler, reading through a book that was probably boring, but a better way to pass the time than staring into space (literal or otherwise), or striking up an awkward conversation with a stranger. Just another traveler, like the hundreds who came to the station every day; merchants, hoping to sell their wares; itinerants, looking for a new home; con artists, planning new scams daily. Though Anyenn was none of those things. He was a believer, one of the faithful, a scion of his clan. Anyenn was a Warrior.

"ID card, please," the security guard inside the docking bay said, bored, not even bothering to look at Anyenn's face. The card was scanned, an acceptable light flashed, and then Anyenn was walking through the docking bay and into the station.

He knew he would never be leaving the station again. Not upright and under his own power, at any rate. The thought filled him with a vague and curious joy.

He had a room reserved, and he went there now. Tiny, with only a small bed built into the wall, a table and chair, a few drawers for belongings. Anyenn unpacked his bag - two changes of clothes went into the drawers, he placed a stone from his temple on the table, and the reason he was here he put under the mattress of the bed. He patted the spot reverently. Soon.

Anyenn would be patient. It would not do to rush, though he did not fear the woman at all, a weak, spineless thing, no doubt, like the rest of her caste. For the rest of this day, he walked through the station, putting the reality together with the maps and diagrams he'd memorized. Green Sector was the most important, so he spent the most time there. A panoply of alien species, a never-ending parade of faces. Ugly faces – Drazi, Centauri, Narn, the few Humans that ventured into this section. All ugly, all revolting to him on such a visceral level that he had a difficult time hiding his disgust. There, a Markab and a Minbari talking, smiling, even embracing – a travesty. Anyenn felt his hands clench into fists, felt his breathing quicken. Would that he could march over to them, thrust the Markab violently away, and ask his brother why he polluted himself in such a way... But that would draw attention, far too much attention. He could not afford even a second of such indulgence.

Ugliness everywhere. A sweltering curtain hanging all around, made of grossly large features, rough scales and sweaty skin, hair and claws and tentacles and the universe knew what else. Anyenn bought tea – weak, nearly tasteless, and he let it go cold. Its only purpose was to make him look as though he were there for a reason. Instead, he looked, and listened, and waited.

On the third day he saw her.

xxx

A Council meeting, another damned Council meeting, yet John realized he was actually looking forward to it. Londo would be screaming, G'Kar would be screaming, some of the other ambassadors would scream not even knowing why they were screaming...but it would be okay. He would deal with it, and even enjoy it in a perverse way. And the reason he would enjoy it smiled at him as he entered the Council chambers, that warm smile that he liked to imagine was a little warmer when she directed it at him.

"And how has your day been, Captain?" Delenn asked him as he sat beside her.

"Good, good." It had been anything but. A minor crash in the cargo bay had led to fighting that had nearly bordered on a riot; two calls from EarthDome had tested the very limits of his patience; a passenger ship called in, stranded and out of fuel six hours from the nearest jump gate; and that was just what had been on his plate before noon. But his day was good now, and John wondered not for the first time what exactly was going on between him and the Minbari ambassador. "Looking forward to the meeting?"

She gave him a look at that, something between resignation and amusement. "I will say one thing with regards to the other members of the Council," she said in that melodious voice of hers, that accent that never failed to make every single word something to hang onto. "They never fail to entertain."

This afternoon was no exception. Screaming, yes, and recriminations, threats, and a brief moment where it seemed physical violence were on the menu. John was able to forestall what would probably have been a hell of a show, though he'd broken his gavel. Now, finally, everyone was leaving. Dark looks, mutters, curses in alien languages as though everyone didn't know all the different curses at this point – he wondered how they ever got anything done. He lingered, leaning against the wall behind the main table, using the angle and opportunity to study Delenn's profile as she made her notes. When he'd been en route from the _Agamemnon_ to Babylon 5, he'd been sent dossiers on the chief ambassadors. Delenn's picture and bio then had, of course, indicated a fully Minbari woman. Attractive for a Minbari, he'd thought at the time, mindful even then of the cruel equivocation. _For a Minbari_. Would he be quite so infatuated now if she were still as she had been, a Minbari through and through?

He didn't know. He didn't like to think about it, worrying that exploring that thought would reveal him as shallow, maybe even bigoted. He liked to think that nothing would be different, but sometimes he felt he was still stuck in that moment after she'd pulled back her hood, revealing dark hair surrounding a bone crest, a face no different from the picture he'd seen and yet utterly changed because of the context of her transformation. In that moment, he'd felt his heart stop, his world shift from one paradigm to the next, ten years of guilt and triumph and a world forever changed slam into his gut with almost tangible force, and the first glimmer of desire since the _Icarus_ had been lost. Could any man ever truly overcome such a moment?

"Why are you staring at me, Captain Sheridan?" she asked, startling him. And he had been staring at her, so intently he hadn't even seen her notice. She finished up her notes and stood, smiling that enigmatic little smile that sometimes kept him up at night, in more ways than one.

"Do you want to have dinner tonight?" he blurted without thinking. John hadn't planned on asking, and she certainly hadn't expected to hear the question. He could tell by the way her eyes widened, the way the enigmatic smile slid off her face. "If you're busy, or..." he said lamely, and dear God was it good to see her shake her head immediately, even violently.

"No! No. No, I'm not busy," Delenn stammered out, and a delicious blush spread over her cheeks. "Would we be eating at the Fresh Air again?"

That was a good question. Part of John wanted to say yes, so she'd wear that black dress again. The number of times he'd jerked off to a fantasy that started with him taking that black dress off... But that was a dangerous path. If he were just one of the many EarthForce soldiers posted to the station, and she were just one Minbari resident among many, then he'd jump in feet first. But it was just too complicated, the way things were. Getting involved with her would be a mistake, no matter how much he sometimes wanted to convince himself otherwise. Asking her out to dinner was probably a mistake, too; when she'd invited him out on a date, she hadn't known she was asking him out on a date. He knew exactly what he was doing. So he changed his game plan.

"No, not at the Fresh Air. Nothing that fancy. I was just going to grab something on my way back to my office, if you wanted to join me." He didn't know why he wanted her to be disappointed at that, but she wasn't. Delenn just nodded and smiled.

"I would be happy to. I want to drop these off at my quarters first." She picked up her notes as she stood, a single graceful move.

He followed her out of the Council chambers, one hand hovering behind the small of her back without actually touching it; he wanted to guide her, but he didn't know what Minbari thought of such displays of chivalry, if they even had such a concept. They stopped in front of the lift and she turned to look at him, a quizzical expression on her face. A hint of a smile regardless.

"Captain?"

"What?" He was completely lost. She always managed to make him feel like this, like he was a dumb teenager again who'd forgotten how to speak English.

"Where are you going?" The hint was something more now, the glow of the sun peeking out over the horizon. John had the obscure sense that she was teasing him.

"I was going to walk with you back to your quarters." Now she grinned at him, placed a hand on his arm for just a heartbeat.

"I thought you were going to stop and pick up a meal?" she asked, and she was definitely teasing him, and it was pretty damned unfair, he thought, since he didn't know how to tease her back.

"I was," he said, aware of the lift doors opening behind her.

"While you do that, I'll drop off my things and change out of these robes. I'll meet you at your office." She was going to change out of her robes…into what? Had he somehow managed to give her the wrong idea? Was he actually okay with her having the wrong idea? Had he decided the wrong idea was the right idea? Goddamned girls, they always did this to him, no matter how old he was.

"Did you want me to pick you something up?"

"That was the idea."

"Should I buy a Minbari…" He waved his hand in the air. He didn't have a clue what Minbari food was called. Gokk? No, that was a cat.

"Whatever you are buying, buy two." Delenn stepped into the lift and threw what could only be defined as a sultry look over her shoulder as the doors closed. Unfair, unfair, totally and completely unfair. She knew exactly what she was doing, she had to. Some things were universal.

It was with a spring in his step that John turned and headed back to Blue Sector.

xxx

Delenn took her time walking back to her quarters, trying to decide what she would wear. It had been the year before she'd confirmed herself as a member of the Religious caste and took her vows as an acolyte, the year each Minbari took to visit the planet, experiment and experience, to learn about themselves and the world, when she had last felt this...this...happy. Giddy, even. That year had also been the last year she'd worried about how she would appear to a male, the last year she'd fretted about which robes and what color. And now she had this infernal _hair_ to deal with as well; for their evening at the Fresh Air, she had spent a solid standard hour just doing her hair. Ridiculous. And yet... She would gladly spend twice as long if it meant she would see that look on his face again, that look he'd worn as she'd approached his table. Stunned, appreciative, perhaps even desiring.

_That is enough, Delenn_, she chided herself. When she had invited Captain Sheridan to dinner, she had told him she wished to learn more about Humans, and that had been the truth. _Then_. That she'd had a wonderful evening, had forgotten her objective, and had become only interested in learning more about _him_ was an unacceptable distraction for one of her station. She would change out of her formal robes, yes, but quickly and without fanfare. Then she would take a few moments to meditate, and regain her focus.

Delenn turned a corner, the long final corridor leading to her quarters. This section of Green Sector always seemed rather crowded. A Markab and a Narn were whispering, their hushed voices alone communicating more worry and suspicion than their words ever could; a Minbari held a reader, lounging beside a closed door; two Centauri were walking briskly her way and laughing their boisterous laughs as loudly as if they were alone.

All thoughts of focus, of distraction, even of Captain Sheridan, who never seemed to leave her thoughts for long these days, fled on swift wings. Delenn was sure her footsteps faltered for just a moment. She let her fingers loosen, and a sheet of paper slipped out of her hands and fell to the floor. She took another step, then stopped and turned to retrieve it. As she knelt, she glanced at the corridor behind. A split-second, but that's all she needed. She saw the backs of the Centauri; she saw the Markab and Narn, brows knitted, eyes glaring her way; she saw the Minbari, still reading, apparently unaware of her presence.

But that was a lie. Delenn turned and headed back in the direction of her quarters, her fingers gone cold. The Minbari was well-trained, but she had seen the way he'd angled his body as she'd passed, to keep an eye on her. And as she continued to walk, she sensed more than heard the Minbari start to follow her. She could continue past her door and enter the lift just beyond, but that risked putting her in a small enclosed space with the stranger. She could call security, but there was no telling how long they would take to respond. No, it was better to meet him on familiar ground. Delenn slipped her entry card out of her robes.

She had seen the stranger two days ago, in the Zocalo. He had been reading then, too, sitting at a table with a cup of tea in front of him. There were often new Minbari on the station; some came to visit her, to ask their questions, or simply to attempt to ingratiate themselves. The stranger had not, but that was not so unusual. Hers was a busy schedule, and she could not meet with everyone. Now Delenn wondered how many other times he had been there, keeping track of her comings and goings, and she simply had not seen. Her head had been too full of stars, remembering the way the Captain had smiled at her that morning, replaying the smallest of gestures – his fingers nervously tapping on the table; unzipping the collar of his jacket, his throat revealed; his hand raking through his hair. How many times had the stranger been right there in front of her eyes, though her eyes had seen nothing?

Delenn entered, the door swinging shut immediately after. She sighed a little in relief, and set her papers down on the counter. Perhaps she was just paranoid. She had become so used to people staring and pointing and following, maybe she was now imagining the attention when it didn't exist. "Lock doors," she announced, and the quiet click was more reassuring than she might have thought. "Call Captain Sheridan's quarters," she continued, meaning to tell him she would not be able to join him for dinner after all. Then she said no more, because by then she could hear the stranger's breathing.

xxx

She said buy two of whatever he was getting, but he didn't know what she liked. They'd eaten veal parmigiana (which had actually been flavored and pressed tofu and grain) and little fried pastries dipped in chocolate and garlic bread and some Centauri honeyed concoction when they'd dined at the Fresh Air, and it seemed that she liked it all. But he just didn't know – Anna had claimed to love peanut butter ice cream, his favorite, the first two years he'd known her until she'd finally confessed she hated it, had always hated it, and would always hate it. So John picked up two of quite a few different things. A couple slices of pizza, a couple salads, a couple big containers of spicy noodle soup – whatever she didn't want, he'd just send on to Garibaldi.

A minute to stow his jacket in the closet, to tidy up his desk, and to check on the station's status. John sat down, and looked through the ubiquitous paperwork. No matter how many docs he signed or passed off or even tossed, there never seemed to be an end to it. Might as well put this time waiting for Delenn to good use. He was halfway through the preliminary schedule for next week when the dulcet tones of the computer's voice rang out.

"Call from Ambassador Delenn." John sat his pen down with a sigh. This didn't bode well. "Put it through," he told the computer.

For a moment he heard nothing, and he stood and walked to the screen. Her quarters, but they were empty. John drew a breath to say her name, but before he could speak he heard a voice, a male voice. The voice spoke Minbari, and he didn't understand the words, but he didn't need to – he could hear the contempt, the hate dripping off every syllable. Was this the kind of shit she had to put up with on a regular basis? He knew some Minbari weren't happy with her transformation, but he had no idea it was like this. He didn't blame her for wanting to cancel, assuming that's why she'd called.

Then he heard several things in close succession. Delenn gasping; the sound of breaking glass; unnerving thuds. "Delenn? Delenn!" he shouted, but he saw and heard nothing else. John grabbed his PPG and was running through his office's vestibule when he heard a scream thick with pain, whose it was he couldn't tell, and then he was out the door. After the initial shock, his mind had cleared considerably; now it was just a matter of running, of punching a button on his link, of ordering security to Delenn's quarters, of advising them of the situation as far as he knew it.

It usually took him around twenty minutes to walk from his office down to Green Sector. He made it in eight.

Walking down the corridor, and there were any number of aliens milling about or standing in their doorways, doing their best to rubberneck. Security personnel and a Minbari nurse ran into Delenn's rooms up ahead; now that he was here, John felt dread pool in his gut like ice water. The gawkers made a path for him. It seemed the corridor grew longer and longer, her door up ahead never coming any closer no matter how much he walked.

It took a second after he entered to realize what he was looking at, and then he let out the breath he'd been holding in one long, shuddery exhalation. Broken things here and there. A figure covered in a dark sheet, though blood stained the carpet underneath. Delenn, sitting in a chair, calmly watching the nurse begin to stitch up a cut on her forearm. The cut looked shallow, but John still felt his heart leap up into his throat.

"Delenn?" She looked up at him, and for a split-second he thought he saw fear in her eyes – not residual fear from whatever had happened here, but fear directed at him, as though she were afraid of _him_ – but then she just looked away, seemingly aloof.

"I'm fine," she said in answer to his unspoken question, her voice quiet and calm. The Minbari nurse looked up at John, a look that in other circumstances might even have been funny. It was a look one parent might give another, that said, _she is not fine, but I can't argue with her anymore – you try_. John turned to the man standing next to him and was surprised to see it was Zack. He hadn't even noticed him when he'd first come in.

"Can I have a minute?" he asked. Zack nodded, gave the others a jerk of his head toward the door, and within thirty seconds John was alone with her.

Delenn smoothed her fingers over the bandage the nurse had wound around her forearm. The sleeve of her robe was ripped open; it hung from her arm in ragged strips. Smears of blood still on her skin. John approached her gingerly, wanting to hug her so badly that not hugging her was almost painful.

"What happened?" he asked as gently as possible. She shook her head before she spoke, and he knew with a sudden rush of intuition that whatever she told him wouldn't be the truth.

"He asked to speak with me. This is not at all unusual. Once he was inside my quarters, though, he became quite…unsettled. I fear he may have had a mental illness. When I could not answer his questions to his satisfaction, he attacked me. I defended myself." John had thought she was avoiding his eye, but that wasn't the case. She was avoiding the body still on the floor. And then John got it – she had never killed anyone before. He'd seen that look many times on the faces of countless soldiers after they'd pulled the trigger for the first time. A wave of affection and sympathy rolled over him, and he put a hand on her shoulder. Delenn only accepted the gesture for a moment, though, before she stood and walked away, presenting him with her back. In Council meetings she always seemed so fierce, almost larger-than-life; now she looked so very small and fragile.

"Are you all right?" he asked, and this time she didn't answer. "You shouldn't stay here tonight. Why don't you pack a bag? You can stay with me."

"No," she said, voice firm. "I will rent a room."

"Are you sure? I just…you don't have to be alone." Delenn turned back to him then. A smile on her face, but it was sad, resigned. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she just shook her head.

xxx

Stephen was typing up his notes when John joined him in Medlab's morgue. The body of Delenn's attacker was now covered by a clean white sheet, looking much more at home in these sterile surroundings than it had in a pool of blood on her floor.

"You wanted to see me?" John asked. It wasn't much of a question; he would have followed up on this regardless. But Stephen's message had been odd, the doctor sounding strange to John's ears. Stephen pushed himself away from the console but didn't look John's way. _What the hell is going on?_

"Let's take a look," Stephen said, going to the body and pulling back the sheet. It was John's first good look. A Minbari male, tall and whip-thin. There was the familiar wavy blue line down the top of his head, marred by a darker blue bruise that ran down to his right eye. A few cuts within the bruise. John looked a question at Stephen. "She hit him over the head with something. Glass shards – probably a vase or something similar."

It was interesting, looking at the body, using it to figure out what had happened. Delenn had cold-cocked the guy first, and then she'd used a knife, probably the same knife the nut had cut her with, to open up the Minbari's throat. The wound was now pink and clean, but now John understood why there'd been so much damned blood all over her carpet.

"He tried to stab her," John said quietly. Anger filled his mouth, tasting like bile. He had the sudden urge to drag the corpse off the gurney and kick it. "She let him into her home and he tried to kill her."

Stephen lifted up a knife from an instrument tray nearby. A kitchen knife, wrapped in a plastic bag; John had one just like it. "Delenn said he went for this. It had been lying on the counter. He cut her arm, she hit him, and then she grabbed the knife herself." John nodded, but saw that more was forthcoming.

"What is it, Stephen?"

"This knife didn't kill him." John thought on that for a moment. Stephen turned away, busied himself with tidying up a morgue that was already well-tidied.

"Are you sure?" he asked. Looking at the wound, it was hard to tell how anyone could determine just what kind of knife would have done it.

"I'm sure. See how this knife had a broad base, then tapers down? The blade that made that wound was thin all along its length. More like a dagger than a butcher knife."

"So she handed you the wrong knife. She was in shock."

Stephen turned, and John saw with faint surprise that the doctor looked angry. "That knife came here along with the body, absolutely dripping with blood. His blood. No one just grabbed the wrong knife, and there wasn't another one in the room that had also just been used as a murder weapon."

"Hey, we're not talking about murder. This was self-defense." Stephen said nothing. He didn't have to; what he thought was written all over his face. "She called me just before it happened," John said in response. "I heard it. He was shouting at her, what I don't know. Then I heard the attack. It played out just like I said."

Stephen had a faint smile on his face, and it looked condescending, even patronizing, to John. "Delenn wouldn't kill someone," John insisted. "Not in cold blood, at any rate."

"I'm not making any claims as to what she may or may not have done," Stephen said, whatever smug smile there might have been now gone. "All I know is that when Zack and his boys showed up, she told us it had been a minute or two but no more since she'd ended the attack, which fits with the time when you called security. And when they arrived, they found that knife on the floor next to the body, covered in his blood. And I can tell you for a fact that knife didn't kill him."

John had always had a bad habit, ever since he'd been a little kid. When he heard something he didn't like, he just ignored it. If his mom asked him to clean his room and he didn't want to, he just blocked off the part of his brain that had heard her request until, ten minutes later, he could honestly say he'd never heard her ask. Most days he heard nothing but what he didn't want to hear, and had to deal with all his problems like the goddamned adult he was. But today, at this moment, he didn't want to hear what Stephen was telling him. He didn't want to connect any of the dots the doctor had laid out.

So John left without saying another word.

It didn't do any good, though. He kept working it over in his mind, replaying those few seconds he'd heard of the fight. The man's voice, and then…had he heard Delenn gasp out that scared little gasp first? Or had he heard the broken glass? Now he couldn't remember. If Susan had been there listening, she could have recalled each individual nuance and moment without a struggle, but already the call was fading away from his memory, all except for that gasp, that breathy little gasp. There'd been real fear in that sound, he'd bet his life on it. He didn't know what Stephen thought had happened – that she'd faked the whole thing? Called John just prior to establish a "witness" to her version of events? He felt dirty just thinking it; he'd only known her six months, but he knew she'd never murder someone in cold blood. She was fierce, yes, but entirely just. If he knew anything, he knew that.

A mistake had been made, that was all. Still, John found himself tracking down Zack Allan. He was reviewing SecureCam footage of Green Sector, and when John entered, he watched the Minbari brazenly follow Delenn right into her quarters. "Got what was coming to him," Zack muttered, running the footage back. John watched Delenn turn the corner and walk down the corridor; he hadn't ever seen her rec'd before, and it was strange, seeing her through the camera's flat, objective lens. She seemed more delicate, like a perfect porcelain figurine. The Minbari stranger was loitering next to someone's door, a reader in front of him, and even through the fish-eye angle John could tell he wasn't reading anything at all. Delenn took a few steps past, then dropped one of her papers. She turned, picked the paper up, then continued on.

"Did you catch that?" Zack asked. "It took me three views before I did." John shook his head, and Zack played the last few seconds back again. "Watch her eyes." As she turned and knelt, her eyes flicked up to the Minbari, so quickly and smoothly that it was hard to tell she'd even done it. Then she picked up her paper and continued on to her quarters, just as calm as could be. There wasn't even the slightest hesitation at her door, no visible indication she was nervous or worried or anything else. But somehow John could see that anxiety anyway. Something in the set of her shoulders, maybe, the angle of her chin.

"She recognized him," John said in a half-whisper.

"She's got ice water in her veins," Zack said admiringly, leaning back in his chair. "Here I've got a gun on my hip, and I probably still woulda run screaming to the nearest blue light."

John leaned against the desk. His stomach rumbled, but he ignored it. "What did the place look like when you got there?"

"You saw it," Zack said with a frown.

"Where was Delenn? What was she doing?" John asked, doing his best to make it sound as though he were just curious, and not asking a leading question.

Zack pulled up the notes he'd typed. John liked Zack, always had, but he wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer. But he was thorough, and a hard-worker, and John would take that over a brainiac any day. "She was sitting at her table, holding a towel to her arm. She was cool as a cucumber. If it wasn't for, you know, the dead body, I woulda thought nothing had happened."

"And the dead body?"

"He was right where you found him. I pulled the sheet back, made sure he was dead, wasn't gonna pop back up like a ghoulie in a slasher vid. Knife was there next to him."

"There was already a sheet over his body?"

"Yeah. Huh. I hadn't thought of that. I guess the Ambassador covered him up." Zack laboriously typed that into his notes. John actually thought that little detail proved that there was just some kind of mistake going on with Stephen's insistence another weapon was involved; Delenn had been made to defend herself with lethal force, and found it upsetting to the point that she had to cover what she'd done, couldn't bear to look at him. That didn't jive at all with the idea she'd planned a murder.

"Thanks, Zack." He clapped the man on the shoulder, made his way back up to Blue Sector. To his office, where he threw out the food, all cold and completely unappetizing. His stomach continued to rumble, but John didn't think he'd eat tonight. It took less than a minute to find the room Delenn had rented – for a week in advance, he saw, frowning. A little room, far too small and plain for someone of her rank, tucked away amidst countless others in the boundary between Red and Green Sectors.

He didn't know what was going on, but he knew it wasn't good. John made a few calls. He didn't think he'd be getting any sleep tonight, but he might be able to get some work done, knowing that Delenn's room was well-guarded.

xxx

She had packed a small bag. A few changes of clothes that she put in the narrow closet, shifts and underthings she stowed in the single drawer, necessary toiletries that marched along the ledge over the sink. One nightgown, which she now wore, sitting on the bed, staring at the door. Delenn found she couldn't take her eyes off the door. Every time she tried to lie down, roll over and close her eyes, she found the skin on the back of her neck tingling, and she had to roll onto her back and stare.

What she wanted, what she really wanted, was to accept the Captain's earlier suggestion, and join him in his quarters. If she were to lay on his couch, knowing that he were just in the next room, then, she thought, then she might be able to sleep. Unless he hadn't only invited her to his quarters. Unless he had also invited her to his bed. But the place that thought led was a place to which she could not travel. Not any more.

She had tried to meditate in the dark at first, but the shadows seemed to multiply, and _he_ hid inside each. So she turned on the light. Her eyes were itchy and dry, and she was exhausted, but the idea of closing her eyes became more and more absurd. _The door is locked, _she tried to tell herself._ Besides, no one is coming tonight._

Not tonight, no, but they would come. One after another, no matter how many fell and how long it took, until the task was complete. Delenn put her hand out to the tiny table beside the bed – the dagger was there, just where she left it. The handle was smooth in her hand, and the blade glittered in the lamp light. She studied it, not for the first time; it was as though she couldn't put it down. An intaglio etched into the metal, runes so ancient she couldn't read them, though she knew what they said. There had once been runes on the handle as well, carved into the leather, but centuries of use had worn them smooth.

She had sought permission for the Chrysalis. "Not yet," the Grey Council had said, ignoring the prophecies, the signs, the clear signal that the time was now. Not yet. Delenn had disobeyed, had gone through the transformation anyway. And now, it seemed, the Council regretted their earlier tacit approval. _Not yet_ implied _yes, but later_. Had they simply been unsure what the Chrysalis actually entailed? Had they changed their minds when they'd seen her, looking more Human than Minbari?

_You are no longer one of us_. Anyenn's words rang in her head, a litany she could not escape. _To remove you from the Grey Council was not enough. You have been judged Anathema. Your presence in our universe cannot be tolerated. I, Anyenn, of the clan Tei, of the Warrior Caste, have been sent to see the will of the Council done._

Delenn traced her finger down the blade. It was beautiful, a work of art, an artifact of the timeless culture of Minbar; it was also deadly. The millennia had done nothing to erase the sharpness of the blade, and it had slid into Anyenn's throat as easily as a warm blade through wax.

She wasn't yet sure if her ruse would work; even if it didn't, the command staff might choose to stay quiet to avoid a diplomatic crisis. It didn't matter either way. If she was asked, she would deny, she would obfuscate, she would even lie if she needed to. Delenn was going to put no one else in harm's way because of her. That Captain Sheridan would do his best to defend her she already knew, and the knowledge warmed her heart even as she made herself harden it against him. He could know nothing of this; she was afraid of the consequences should he find out. He was Starkiller, after all. No matter how hard he fought, though, eventually he would fail. Delenn couldn't let that happen.

Delenn replaced the dagger on the bedside table, and continued watching the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two: Secrets**

_She turned, and he was standing there, a grim look on his face. His eyes seemed to sneer at her, and when he spoke, it was with the flat contempt she'd heard only once before, when the Minbari had decided to exterminate the Human race. He spoke with the bone-deep hatred she had once heard in her own voice._

"_You have been judged Anathema," he said, and he drew out the dagger. It had no name, this blade, this thin piece of hammered steel. It needed none. She had never seen it before, had not seen even a picture of it in a book, but she knew what it was immediately. She knew what it was, and what it meant; he could have saved his words. _

_He rushed at her, the blade held out, swinging toward her in a shining arc. Only a second to act, no more. She reached for the vase beside her, but it was gone, and her hand met empty air. The second was past, and before she could move, before she could run, before she could even scream, he grabbed her by the hair, spun her around, and drew the blade across her throat._

Delenn awoke with a gasp, though it didn't seem there was enough air in the room to breathe. She stuck a hand up to her neck, sure it would meet warm, sticky blood, but the skin there was whole. Clammy, but whole.

She sat up, feeling her heart pounding in her chest. A moment of disorientation as she remembered where she was, the bed beneath her flat – there were no Minbari rooms left to rent. She was sweaty all over; she had forgotten to adjust the temperature settings. The bright lamp light didn't seem comforting anymore. There were still shadows, but now they were outlined in harsh relief.

Somehow she had fallen asleep. Her neck ached, and the arm she'd managed to sleep on was numb and yet hurt at the same time. Delenn took long breaths, in and out, trying to slow her heart rate. Then her door chimed, and she felt the adrenaline hit her system at the same time she reached for the dagger.

"Delenn?" The Captain's voice, warm and gravelly. Relief hit her like a hammer blow. "Come in," she told the door, and it slid up obligingly. It wasn't until the Captain entered that Delenn remembered she was wearing only a nightgown and was covered in a thin film of sweat. By then it was too late. He walked in slowly, and there was so much compassion in his eyes when he saw her that she had to bite her lip to keep tears from building.

"I couldn't sleep," he said, voice a little hoarse. "I couldn't do anything but worry, even though I'd posted guards all up and down the hallway outside."

"Guards."

"I know he didn't just show up to talk to you. I know something else happened." Then, as if she'd pointed to it himself, his eyes slid over to the dagger. All that work, and she'd left it right out in the open. She might as well have sent it to him in a box.

"He was sent to kill me," she whispered. It felt good to say it, and the tight band she hadn't even known was strapped around her chest loosened a bit.

"Sent by whom?"

"The Grey Council." He didn't understand, couldn't understand, and he just stared at her for a long, long beat. Then he shook his head, and walked away. For a split-second Delenn thought he was leaving her, but he just stepped into the tiny lavatory that was scarcely big enough to admit his body. A moment, and he returned with something in his hand. Delenn was too embarrassed, too ashamed, to look at him to tell what it was. She sensed him hesitating beside the bed, and then he carefully sat down on the edge of the mattress behind her.

"Delenn," he murmured, and she hated to hear the pity in his voice. But there was affection in his voice, too; she didn't think anyone had ever said her name quite like that. Maybe Dukhat, once, but they had both convinced themselves it wasn't the case. The Captain carefully pulled her hair behind her shoulders. He did something to it, pulling and twisting chunks of it, and it felt absolutely exquisite. When he finished, he draped her hair back over her shoulder. She looked down at it – a rope of sorts. "I have a little sister," he said, explaining something, she guessed. "Did I wake you when I rang?"

"No. I was already awake. I'd had a bad dream," she explained. She knew that Humans found sweat to be repulsive; she certainly found it so. She wondered that he could sit this close to her. The Captain only hummed a little, and then laid a cool, wet cloth on the bare skin of her shoulders. He gently washed her back, and it felt so good that she drew her knees up to her chest and rested her head against them. Soft, gentle circles, the pressure of his fingertips through the cloth more physical contact than she'd had in...years, she supposed. She couldn't really remember. He brought the cloth up to the nape of her neck, and rubbed it a little harder against her scalp, the hair there nearly wet with sweat. He blew cool air over her shoulders, her neck, and then she felt him press the softest of kisses to the skin beside the strap of her nightgown.

"I'm not going to let anyone hurt you," he said. Delenn nodded, an acknowledgment of his words, not an agreement. She only wished it were that simple.

"Anyenn's death means nothing," she told him, forcing strength into her voice. "More will come, and they will keep coming until I'm dead."

"No," he said, as though it were as simple as that.

"Captain." His fingers slid down her arms, the barest of caresses. "John," she amended, and now that she was cool she could feel the heat of his body behind hers. A shiver ran through her despite herself, and she made herself scoot away, turning to face him. "If they come for me and you are here, they will not hesitate. Your death would be acceptable...what is the term? Collateral damage?"

"I don't care." She could almost laugh at the brazen, stupid confidence in his voice. "This is my station – my fragging station, do you hear me? - and I'll lock the whole damned thing down if I have to." Delenn sighed, starting to become frustrated in trying to reason with him. It was also difficult to try and remain logical when all she wanted to do was climb into his arms.

"John. If the Council has to wait years, it will. Once someone has been judged Anathema, they will not be allowed to live. They soil and stain the universe itself merely by existing."

"I see." He shifted, leaning back against the headboard of the bed as though this were his room, and she were the one visiting. She hadn't moved far enough away – he ran a finger down the back of her hand. Delenn became sure that he was trying to distract her. "Were the Humans once judged Anathema?"

"Yes," she admitted, though she would never tell him she had been one of the five to make that judgment.

"But you changed your minds. Here I am, still alive, and I know your people just fucking _hated_ me." Delenn smiled; she couldn't help it.

"They won't change their minds," she told him. Her throat tightened up, and she felt her eyes sting.

"Why are they doing this?" he asked. She couldn't answer, couldn't say it. She just reached up and tugged at the rope he'd made of her hair. "Fuck," he muttered. Delenn still thought telling him was a mistake, still worried that she was exposing him to mortal danger, but she was simply too weak. What strength she had once possessed had been burned away by the Chrysalis. John made no move to leave, and she wasn't sure what to say, or what he expected of her. Delenn stood, as cold now as she'd been hot before; she hugged her arms, wishing she'd brought a robe. She felt so very small in her thin Human nightgown. She was keenly aware, perhaps for the first time in her life, of her femininity, and what exactly that entailed.

A moment of scrutiny, as John just looked at her, and then he stood himself, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. He looked as awkward as she felt.

"Are you going to be okay here?" he asked, and she could tell he wanted her to say no. Instead she just nodded. He passed her on his way to the door, and Delenn rested her hand on his arm, just for a heartbeat.

"Thank you." The look on his face was one she hadn't seen before, and suddenly the thought of him leaving was more than she could bear. "There is a bed that folds out of the wall," she told him, pointing. He stared at her blankly for a moment before he turned and looked. "You do not have to stay, of course..." John didn't seem to hear, unsnapping the latches at the top and drawing it down. The bed was very narrow, and the mattress was very thin. John sat down on the edge of it experimentally.

"I will sleep there," Delenn told him. He didn't move. "You may take the larger bed. If you wish. If you'd prefer to return to your own quarters..."

"No, no. I'll sleep here." He reached out and took her hand, squeezed it gently. Then he drew it up to his mouth and kissed the back of it, just as he had kissed her shoulder. A brush of his lips with the barest bit of pressure, like the flutter of a soft-winged moth against her skin. She wanted to thank him, but the words seemed to lodge in her throat. She thought that he saw it in her eyes, though.

Delenn returned to her own bed, thinking that the distance between them was short enough that she could take his hand again, but instead she rolled over and faced the opposite wall.

xxx

John woke up, and was aware of three things more or less simultaneously. One, his neck was seized up tight as can be. Just the slightest turning of his head was enough to make the muscles there and in his shoulders scream in protest. Two, he was still on the bed only by dumb luck; all of one leg and half his torso were hanging off, and for a sleep-addled moment he was sure he was going to fall clean out. It was important he figure this out and quick at that, because of number three. Three was his erection, and it didn't matter that he'd fallen asleep fully clothed. If she saw him, she'd see _that_ as well, and he didn't think that was for the best. He listened for a moment. It would be unfair to say that Delenn was snoring, but she was definitely breathing – long, slow breaths, and the steady rhythm made him want to crawl into her bed with her and go back to sleep himself. Maybe do other things, too. But no – she'd made it clear she wasn't interested in exploring that, even though he was pretty sure she did want him. John eased himself off the hard pallet he'd slept on, which put him right beside her bed.

A moment to look down at her, face soft in sleep. Wisps of dark hair had escaped the braid and curled here and there. She was beautiful; anyone who couldn't see that was a stain on the universe themselves. John tore himself away and squeezed himself into the microscopic head attached to the rental room. It was a good thing the door slid up into the wall; he probably wouldn't have managed it otherwise. He flipped on the fan, hoped it both wouldn't wake her up and would cover up any noises he might inadvertently make, and took care of his morning wood. That out of the way, he washed his hands and face, and looked at himself for a second in the mirror.

_What are you willing to do, Johnny-boy? How far will you go for her?_ That was a good question. He knew what the answer should be. He represented more than just himself; he represented the station and therefore Earth itself. If he defied the Council, he might very well draw the wrath of the entire Minbari Empire, and Earth still bore the scars from the last time that had happened. And if he did this on behalf of a Minbari? He might very well piss off Earth just as much, if not more. He was in between a rock and a hard place, if the rock and the hard place had thousands of nuclear weapons at their disposal, and a history of genocidal war.

John went back to the bed. Delenn had rolled over onto her back, one nightgown strap having slid down her arm. Her breathing was still slow and steady, and he could see her pulse beat in her throat. There wasn't a decision to be made, really. Fuck the rock, and fuck the hard place, too.

He sat down on the floor beside the bed – God, his knees, when did he start getting old? - and resumed his watch. He didn't want her to wake up alone. He thought about checking in on the link, making sure there weren't any pressing emergencies, and then just staying with her all day. But he couldn't do that. John brushed his fingertips as lightly as he could down her arm, wanting to wake her gently. She was breathing so deeply he figured it would take a while to wake her, but her eyes opened almost immediately.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, and she nodded once. There was something almost wary in her eyes. He moved his hand up, brushed those wisps of hair away from her face. "Move up to my room?" She'd be safe there, tucked away in the heart of Blue Sector. No one's quarters were more secure than the CO's. He ran his fingers over her cheek, then drew his thumb down to her lips. She just stared at him, her eyes big gray pools that seemed to shine with a light of their own. Her mouth looked so soft and inviting, and he leaned forward to kiss her at the same time Delenn leaned back and turned away.

She sat up, avoiding his eye. He watched as she tugged her strap up, then crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm sorry," he said. His words were genuine; he hadn't planned to try and kiss her, he really hadn't.

"No, no," she murmured, though she still didn't look at him. "Nothing's changed, John. It is too dangerous for you to be around me."

"Appeal to the Grey Council."

"There is no appeal." She almost sounded satisfied at shooting him down. John leveraged himself up, leaning over the bed, not letting her look away.

"Then we go public," he insisted. "We announce that there's a target on your back, pressure the Council to change their minds. They won't want to deal with the fall-out, especially from your people."

Delenn stared at him. She shook her head with a bit of contempt of her own, as though she couldn't believe how stupid he was. "My people hate me. As far as I know, one Minbari supports my decision, and that's Lennier. If you make this public, it won't be only the assassins sent on a holy mission. Every Minbari in this sector will be scrambling to end my life." She leaned close to him then, a hand on the side of his face. It would have been romantic if she hadn't continued to speak. "There is nothing to be done. You need to understand that."

"So, what? Are you just going to give up? Why don't I just shoot you out an airlock and save everyone the trouble?" She jerked away from him, surprise and shock and fury all mixed together in her eyes. "Jesus, Delenn, you're acting like you just want to roll over and die."

She slapped him then. It wasn't much of a slap, though it still stung. She said something in Minbari, her voice choked. She repeated the words as she stood, and he could actually see her shaking. "Get out," she ordered, her accent thicker than he'd ever heard. She pointed a quivering finger at the door. "Out!"

John stood. The Neanderthal part of his brain was certain that he could still throw her over his shoulder, drag her away someplace safe, and take care of this whole business. He was half tempted to try it, but then he remembered the body in the morgue, and the clean pink wound in his throat. John just nodded, feeling stiff and old, and left her.

xxx

The command staff were waiting for him by the time he got back to his office. Stephen knew a part of what was going on, but he'd left Garibaldi and Ivanova nearly completely in the dark.

"What I say doesn't leave this room," John announced, stuffing the last of a protein bar in his mouth. He still wasn't hungry, though he hadn't eaten since lunch the day before, but he needed to have something on his stomach or he'd drop before the day was out. They looked at him, solemn and patient, and John counted himself lucky to have three such people to depend on in a time like this.

"It's Delenn, isn't it?" Garibaldi said. "The attack."

John nodded. "The Grey Council has ordered her death, because of her change. The man who attacked her was an assassin." He looked at Stephen, hoping what he said next didn't sound like too much of a reproach. "The assassin brought a ceremonial dagger with him. Delenn used it to kill him. She hid it because she didn't want any of us to know what had happened. She's afraid that if we try to protect her, she's only putting us in danger. She'd rather die than let that happen." Stephen sighed, looking ashamed and apologetic. That was enough for John.

"They want to kill her because she has hair now?" Susan said with her customary bluntness. "That seems a bit...much."

"I thought no Minbari had killed another in hundreds and hundreds of years," Stephen added.

"I got the impression this is different. Government sanctioned, an execution, not a murder." A pause, to gather himself. "Delenn has resigned herself to her fate," John said, wishing like hell it weren't the case. "I have not. No one is going to touch a single of those apparently universe-ending hairs on her head. Not while I'm in charge. So. I want every Minbari who is currently on this station to be tracked. Find out what caste they're in, what clan, what they think of Delenn. She's convinced every last one of them hate her, which isn't the case. At least I don't think so. Any one of them who seems the least bit likely to hold a grudge against her, or to blindly follow orders and kill one of their own, I want on surveillance."

"We don't have a lot of warm bodies to assign to that kind of duty." Garibaldi wasn't making excuses, just pointing out a fact.

"If your men and women can't watch one or two additional folks, then they need to turn in their guns." Garibaldi nodded at that.

"I want every Minbari who comes to this station subjected to a thorough search. I want _every single one_ _of them_ watched the whole time they're here. If they seem even slightly suspicious, I want their ass tossed right back to Minbar."

"John," Susan said in a warning tone, but she went no further than that.

"And I want Delenn put someplace safe. Find a room and guard it. I want it someplace secure, someplace no one's going to be able to get to without going through a half-dozen levels of security."

"The brig would be the best," Garibaldi said. "What keeps the prisoners in would equally keep someone else out."

"Fine," John agreed. "The brig. But set aside the largest set of rooms there is, and make them nice. I don't want her to actually feel like she's in prison." Everyone nodded, and waited for more instructions. "That's all."

No more talk. They stood and got to work, though Susan lingered long enough to squeeze his shoulder before she left. John spent ten minutes taking care of the essential station business he couldn't pass on to anyone else, and then he sat for another five, letting his mind clear as much as possible. He hadn't meditated in years, probably closer to decades at this point; he wished he could now. But that much calm seemed beyond him. Five minutes to breathe, to close his eyes and listen to the air recyclers, to count his heartbeats.

Two hours of research followed. When he was done, he looked down at the sheet of paper in front of him.

_1. There is a body called the Grey Council._

_2. They live on a ship._

3.

John crumpled up the piece of paper and tossed it in the bin. It was unbelievable how little information was out there on the Minbari government; he couldn't imagine anything similar regarding Earth. He was sure EarthGov knew more than that, but it would all be classified, at a security clearance higher than even he had. For a wild moment, he imagined calling Clark. _Mr. President? I was hoping you could tell me about the Grey Council. Yeah, the bald, bony bastards in charge. I'm kinda pissed, because they want to hurt this pretty girl I like._

Yeah. That would go over well.

If there was one thing the military was good at, it was getting shit done. By the time he wolfed down another protein bar and knocked back the truly horrid dreck the mess called coffee, he checked in with Garibaldi and Ivanova.

"We've got cams trained on every entrance to Green Sector, and monitors on the Minbari hubs. There are currently twenty-eight thousand, six hundred and fourteen Minbari on-board on the station. We flagged two hundred and thirteen," Susan told him as they walked down to the brig. "They have brand-new fans keeping eyes and ears on everything they do.

"Only three Minbari have boarded so far. One's a regular trader in the Zocalo, and I could no more see him hurting Delenn than my own babushka. One's an old blind nun or whatever they call them, a hundred years old if she's a day. The third we weren't sure about, so she's got a babysitter, too." Access to the brig was almost as tightly guarded as the reactor core or C and C. The first set of doors required a key card with Level 5 access. The second set of doors was manned 24/7 by two guards, both of whom had orders to shoot on sight anyone who posed the least threat. The third set of doors opened after print and eye scans. Then each individual cell needed both a card swipe and a retinal scan, those keys entered into the system only after checking in with the guards at station two. John felt pretty proud of himself when they finally entered what would be Delenn's new rooms.

"This secure enough for you?" Garibaldi asked with a smirk. Secure, yes, but also very comfortably decorated. Aside from the gently glowing field around the door, it didn't look like a cell at all. Carpets had been laid; a big stuffed couch on one wall; two low tables like Minbari liked, one topped with thin taper candles. John glanced at Susan. "Lennier helped us," she said. She always knew what he was going to ask just before he actually did.

A few screens had been set up, partitioning off one end of the cell into a bedroom of sorts. There was a weird slanted thing in there that John realized must be a Minbari bed. "What the hell?" he asked no one in particular. The other two just nodded. "Exactly," Susan said. "What the hell."

"Maybe it's good for the back?" Garibaldi offered. John sure hoped so.

"Thank you both," he told them, feeling just the tiniest bit overwhelmed.

Garibaldi scratched the stubble on top of his head, looking a little awkward. "I'm gonna go check in with Zack." He left John alone with Ivanova. His second watched him with a knowing look, content to stare at him for God knew how long until he finally got sick of it.

"What?" he demanded.

"You and Delenn. How long?"

"No." Maybe they would have been, at some point, but he thought that time was past. She'd been scared and vulnerable, and he'd taken advantage of that. He could be a real selfish prick. "No," he said again. "We're not. I just...I want her safe, Susan. I don't have to be sleeping with her to want that."

"Okay," she said gently, and she ran her hand down his arm. It was nice to have a woman in your life you weren't attracted to, nor her to you, and to be close enough to her to be able to share affection from time to time. Sometimes you just needed a bit of comfort, the kind of comfort only a woman seemed able to give. John put his other arm around her shoulders, gave her a quick half-hug.

"Will you tell her about this? Ask her if she wants to move here?"

Susan raised her eyebrows. "Me?"

"We...didn't part on the best of terms." Susan still looked a little surprised, but she nodded and left, as quick as that. John wandered around the room. Some food already laid in; they'd hooked up a portable cooler, hung some cabinets. Lennier had supervised other things, he was sure – her clothes were here, a few trinkets he recognized from her quarters.

John didn't know what else to do. They'd put in a switch to control the lights – manual, but better than the lighting being left up to the guards' discretion. He dimmed them down to almost nothing, then lit one of the tapers. He sat on the floor, crossed his legs as best he could (he really was getting old, and soft, and his knees didn't touch the ground like they used to), and watched the flame flicker. Slowly, the red and yellow and orange light filled his vision until he saw nothing else.

_There are no thoughts in your head. Your mind is free. You are aware of nothing. You are not aware that you are aware of nothing. No body, no mind, only consciousness. Let your spirit mingle with the universe and know peace._

John tried, he really did, but it had been far too long since he'd known peace.

xxx

Susan had come to her not ten minutes after she had given Lennier the data crystal. After explaining what John had done, Delenn agreed to the move – but not because she thought she'd be any safer in the brig. She knew that John would continue to hound her no matter what she said or did; let him think he was protecting her, and it might be that he would leave her alone.

A veritable squadron of soldiers and guards escorted her up to Blue Sector, into the center levels of the station. She had never visited the brig; she had to admit, it was well-fortified. Susan herself accompanied Delenn the rest of the way, but she left her at the door of the cell. Delenn stood there for a moment, just looking at him. A candle burned in the dark room, casting flickering light on his face. His eyes were closed, his face slack. He was handsome, so handsome that she felt she could stare at him for hours. She fully entered, and the door slid down behind her, the security field crackling back into life. She expected the sound to alert him to her presence, but she saw not even the slightest movement from him.

The room was truly lovely. Part of her wished she could stay here; this was nicer than her own quarters were. It was a tempting thought, to stay. It would be so easy to give up all her duties, to rest for the first time in nearly twenty years, to let John attend to her as much as he wanted to. She imagined the time she'd have at her disposal. Time to read, to study, to pray. Time to eat slow, thoughtful meals. Time to rest, to sleep, to dream. Time even, maybe, to love. But if she stayed here, whatever time she might have would be short.

Delenn knelt beside him, and put her hand to the cheek she had struck. "John," she whispered, and his eyes opened. They were dark, and she didn't quite know what he was thinking. "I'm sorry," she said, and she kissed his cheek. She needed to say more, but she didn't know the words, in English or in any other tongue. "I'm sorry."

He looked at her for a long moment, face still inscrutable. Perhaps she had offended him so greatly that he could not forgive her. But no, he brought his hand up to her hair, brushing it back from her face. "You don't have anything to apologize for," he said, and then he turned back to look at the flame. "It's been a long time since I meditated. I think I forgot how." She sat down on the floor next to him and looked at the candle flame herself. She knew just how he felt. Delenn waited for the room to drift away, for her mind to come into focus, but it seemed there was something blocking her. Instead of becoming less aware of her physical body, she became more aware – she was a little cold, and her head felt stuffed full of thick clouds. Mostly, though, she was aware of John beside her, his leg just brushing hers, the steady rhythm of his breathing.

"John?" she said, breaking the silence. "When you left, I…" How could she explain it to him? "I haven't felt so much grief and shame since the war," she finally said, hoping he would understand without asking any questions she couldn't answer. He nodded, though she could barely make out the movement in her peripheral vision. His hand covered hers, fingers squeezing gently. "You're right. I did what I did, the Chrysalis, my change, I did that because it was the right thing to do. I believe that. I will not bow my head and go meekly to the slaughter."

"We'll figure something out," he said. "Until then, you'll be safe here."

"No."

Now he turned to face her, looking as frustrated as she'd ever seen him. "Delenn. Please, just…please just do this for me."

"I've already figured something out," she told him. "I sent a message with Lennier, to the one member of the Grey Council I trust."

"You mean one of those who ordered your death?"

"Hallier would not have voted against me. I know this." Delenn said it with more conviction that she actually felt, but it would not do to let John know that. "If anyone can help me, she can."

John nodded, though he didn't look very confident. "Okay. Until then-"

"Until then," she cut him off, "you must act as though I am still on the station. Guard this room, and send your men and women on their rounds, and thoroughly question any Minbari who arrives."

"And where are you going?" he asked, in a tone that told her he would happily lock her up here and treat this room like the prison cell it was. Let him think that for now; she knew what power she held over him. He would do what she wanted in the end.

"I am going to where I asked Hallier to meet me. To Centauri Prime."


	3. Chapter 3

**Three: And They're Off**

"I don't get it," John said, hands on his hips, frowning down at the bed. "How do you even sleep on this?"

"It's quite comfortable." He turned his frown her way. His shoes were already off, his jacket hung up, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar; Delenn assumed he would stay with her again tonight. It seemed unfair to ask him to sleep on the couch when she knew he had not had a comfortable night's sleep on the fold-down cot, but the couch would certainly be more comfortable to him than a Minbari bed. But he did not seem happy with her, not since she had told him of her plans to travel to Centauri Prime. He had paced from one end of the cell to the other as he asked her questions, grilling her like one of his men. And now he was staring down at her bed as though it disgusted him. "Please stay," she asked, not meaning to. She didn't want to beg him, didn't want him to know just how much she needed him.

She was afraid he already knew, though.

"Of course," he muttered, and then he lowered himself down on her bed with a groan. No, what had she done? They could not share a bed, they simply couldn't. "Oh, for Christ's sake," he groused.

"John..." She had ruined it, led him on, and he would be angry with her, even more angry than he was now. But he just shook his head and pushed himself back up to his feet.

"That's not even a bed. That's a torture device." He put a hand to her shoulder, just for a heartbeat. The lightest squeeze. "I'm not going anywhere." Then he made his way to the couch, on the other side of the partition but not out of view.

Delenn shrugged out of her robe, wondering why she felt so self-conscious, so naked. He had seen her in this nightgown last night. Seen her and held her, as though they were halfway through the rituals already. She knew he would see the blush on her cheeks; she could feel the heat herself.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly. She hugged her arms. Last night she had been too hot; tonight she was too cold. "Delenn?" She shook her head.

"I just feel unsettled." She laid down on her bed. It was uncomfortable to her as well; hadn't it always been uncomfortable? No one should need to meditate before being able to fall asleep. Sleep should come as naturally as anything. How many nights in her life had she spent tossing and turning on a bed like this? Too many. And this would be another one.

"It's going to be all right," he lied. He knew it was a lie; she could hear it in his voice. Delenn decided to ignore it. She pulled the thin blanket up over her shoulders and squeezed her eyes closed. After a few moments, she heard John lie down on the couch. His clothes rustling, the cushions moving against each other, the barest squeak of springs. He was so close, but would never be any closer.

Would it be so wrong, to give in to temptation? If all went according to plan, after tomorrow she would not see him again for a long time. She might very well never see him again. Would any blame her for wanting a single night of joy, of pleasure, of love? Delenn felt a tear slip down her cheek. They would all blame her, of course. She was wicked, and foul, and a blight on the universe.

"Good night," she heard John murmur. The sound of his body shifting again, and then all was still, save for the quiet hiss of the air recyclers. Delenn laid against the hard, unyielding bed and resigned herself to a sleepless night.

xxx

John called her after lunch. "We're putting together the escort for your shuttle now."

"Good, good," Delenn said, hoping she sounded more enthusiastic to his ears than to hers. It seemed she was – John smiled at her. Just a week ago such a smile directed her way would have made her melt inside, would have caused her to spend an hour in bed that night just reliving that moment over and over, feeling silly and lovesick. Now the smile only made her feel guilty, her stomach clenching.

"Part of me wants to fly with the wing, part of me wants to fly with you." He pursed his lips, thinking. "I'm afraid if I leave the station, though, anyone looking for you will know something's up, if they hadn't already."

"I think it would be best if you stayed here," she said as gently as possible. There would be no real harm in inviting him along, save that it would compound her treachery. She wished to betray him as little as possible.

John didn't nod, only looked at her closely. He wanted to say something, she could tell, but he swallowed whatever it was. "I'll bring dinner. Around twenty hundred?" Delenn smiled briefly, though the thought of eating turned her stomach. "Okay then," he said. He stayed on the line for another few seconds, saying nothing, but then again so did she. He finally punched a button and she was left looking at the Babcom screen, flat and blue.

Twenty hundred hours gave her plenty of time. It was only thirteen hundred hours now; Lennier was meeting her in two hours at the entrance to the brig, and she didn't need two hours to complete her preparations. So Delenn sat in front of the candles John and his staff had provided and turned down the other lights. Her stomach was a tight knot, and she couldn't seem to keep her hands from shaking. She needed to calm herself, to find the inner focus that had seemed lost to her lately. She needed to be herself if she were to have any chance of survival.

Delenn lit the candles and began to pray.

xxx

He didn't like it. He didn't like any of it, but his not liking it wouldn't change a thing. Lennier did not wish to call attention to himself by loitering in one place, but neither did he wish to miss Delenn when she emerged from the Human's penitentiary. Blue Sector was the province of the Humans, and of the EarthForce men and women in particular. Each one moved confidently here and there on his appointed rounds, epitomes of determination and discipline. Lennier had never been a warrior, but he could respect them all the same. Now, though, they threatened to expose Delenn's plan. That was a problem.

He needed to draw the guards away. If they saw Delenn leave, they would inform Captain Sheridan, and all would be revealed. But how? Delenn had left this portion of the plan up to him – he had argued strenuously for her to remain in the rented room, as it would make all of this much simpler, but she had seemed loathe to refuse Sheridan's offer. He had spent a considerable amount of time helping Commander Ivanova set up the room in the brig knowing full well that Delenn would not be staying there long. His only hope was that such a move would make them less likely to suspect anything was afoot. At least he had been granted temporary security clearance, and did not have to fashion a method of getting through the first entrance to the brig. But the guards, how to get rid of the guards? Lennier came to the final stretch of corridor realizing that he still hadn't a clue what he was going to do. He decided the simplest gambit was the best.

He carried a dagger. Not the one Anyenn had brought aboard the station – that remained in Delenn's possession – but a sharp one nonetheless. Lennier drew it out of his sleeve and jabbed the point of the blade into the tender skin above his eye, just over the brow bone. Warm blood trickled down and threatened to blind him; Lennier raked the back of his hand over the wound, smearing the blood around. It would look worse an injury that way. He tucked the dagger away and began to run, heading for the guard station.

The two looked up at him as he approached, hands already on their weapons, their faces hard. "An assassin," he said, breathing hard. "He's coming for her. Hurry." It was all true, of course; another assassin was definitely en route, and Lennier was not claiming to have actually seen him. Only one of the guards stood; it was foolhardy to hope that both would leave their posts. The woman spoke into the link on the back of her hand quietly and came Lennier's way.

"What's he look like?" she asked. Lennier shook his head. "I didn't get a good look. This way." He started to lead the guard down the corridor, then stopped and turned back as though he'd forgotten something. She continued on without him, thankfully.

The other guard came out of the little post, also speaking into his link. Lennier could see through the clear door behind him – Delenn was coming. Alarm on her face, and she mouthed a question at him. Lennier didn't have the time to try and figure it out, though; more personnel would arrive at any minute. He approached the guard, knowing that he looked small and nonthreatening.

"We'll get a doc down here to look at that," the guard said, and then Delenn came up behind him and put an arm around his throat. A split-second of shock, and Lennier used it to knock the weapon from the man's hand. He put a hand over his mouth, pinching his nostrils shut. The guard did his best to break free of Delenn's hold, but she was surprisingly strong, even considering that she was half-Human now.

"I'm sorry," Lennier told the guard, entirely sincere. The man's eyes bugged out, and then they slowly closed. Lennier and Delenn dropped him carefully to the floor, and Lennier checked his pulse. Not as strong as he would have liked, but the station's medical personnel would take good care of him. Delenn pulled off his link and tucked it down into the front of the cloak she wore. She tugged the hood up over her head, then took Lennier's hand.

"You did well," she murmured, and then they were running.

There was an service lift just up ahead, and the forty-five seconds it took to reach it was an eternity. If the other guard should return, if security should arrive... But they slipped inside while the corridor was still empty, and Lennier told the lift to take them down to the station's core. His heart was racing, a wild thumping he could feel throughout his whole body; Delenn still held his hand.

"You're hurt," she said, looking at the blood on his face. Lennier shook his head. "There is very little pain. I am fine." Very little pain wasn't quite true; now that they were on their way, the wound seemed to ache more than it had before. His left eye stung and watered; some blood had found its way there after all. But he would gladly shed even more blood if it were necessary to keep Delenn safe.

Once down on Blue Two, there was only a short distance to traverse before coming to the core shuttle that ran the length of the station. Once inside a car, they should be able to make their way down to the aft docking bay in Brown Sector where the shuttle was waiting for her. The service lift doors opened, and Lennier found himself holding his breath, but no one was there. Lennier felt the urge to run, but that would only draw attention to them should anyone cross their paths; not that two Minbari in this part of the station wouldn't draw attention as it was.

A woman in a brown uniform was loading something in the undercarriage of the monorail car as they walked up, but she spared them a single bored look and returned to her work. Lennier followed Delenn aboard, and they took up seats at the very back of the car. With luck, few people would join them. Even wearing a cloak, a hood obscuring most of her face, Delenn was very recognizable.

The universe seemed to be bestowing a great deal of luck, because once the journey began not only did few people enter the car, but there were few stops at all. Two Humans in blue EarthForce uniforms boarded, but they were young, and were only interested in whispering and giggling to each other. They never even looked their way. A Narn, long-faced and solemn, boarded in Red Sector, and promptly fell asleep. A Minbari entered just after, and for a moment Lennier felt real alarm, but she was a tiny, wizened thing, likely a hundred cycles old at least, and he could tell from the sash around her waist that she was a Trustee of the Empire, a collector of Minbar's cultural heritage, one who had spent her life poring through scrolls and crystals.

The old woman shuffled in their direction, leaning on a cane. Lennier felt Delenn tense beside him, but the old woman sat down a few seats away and pulled out a little silk purse from her robes. Tea leaves – she nibbled on one with a contented sigh. He heard Delenn let out a slow breath, and they both relaxed.

"How much did it cost to secure the shuttle?" she whispered. Lennier just shook his head. "It will be a debt to be repaid with favors, not with money." The Brakiri pirate he'd bartered with was a devious one, but he'd had no idea to whom he was talking, and the promise of a shipment of fine Centauri Brivari ready and waiting in his cargo hold when the shuttle was returned was far too tempting an offer.

Suddenly he heard a voice, very close, male and harsh and slightly familiar. It was the link stowed in Delenn's cloak, and she grabbed at it. Lennier heard s_he's gone_ before Delenn fumbled it in her hand, pressing the right button to turn it off. They both looked up at the EarthForce officers sitting up ahead, but they must not have heard, because they were sneaking little kisses, not paying any attention to the back of the car at all. He was sure for a moment that it was just a ruse, meant to draw them out, trick them into being complacent, but one second turned into five, then ten, then thirty, and it became clear that no one else had heard after all.

He realized that Delenn kept reaching her hand just inside her sleeve. _She must be keeping her own dagger there_, he thought. But it wasn't her dagger at all; it had been Anyenn's dagger, the one he'd brought to kill her. Just thinking about it made Lennier shiver. She could have died so easily...

"Excuse me?" Lennier snapped out of his reverie, and looked up to see the Trustee standing just before him. Her face was lined with a thousand wrinkles, her eyes cloudy with cataracts. She smiled a nearly-toothless smile. "Would you happen to have any credits to spare? I left my purse in my quarters, and I need to buy a paper, you see." It would be easier to claim poverty – he had to do so every day on the station, to one beggar or another, or he'd be bled dry – but he always had a difficult time saying no to the elderly. Lennier smiled, and reached down to one of his inner pockets.

He didn't see the old woman's fist come at his face, but he felt it. His nose broke as easily as a piece of dry tinder, and a gout of blood spilled over his mouth. Before he could even think of drawing his blade, the Trustee was climbing over him, spry and nimble. He tried to shove her away, but she was already drawing something from the top of her cane – a crystal ice pick, the point needle sharp. She held it high and screamed a word in the Old Tongue, then brought the weapon down. Delenn managed to twist away some, but not enough; the pick stabbed through her shoulder. The Trustee made to draw the length of it out and stab again, but Delenn grabbed onto her wrist and held it tight, keeping the pick right where it was. Lennier took the opportunity to draw his own weapon, and he held the dagger to the old woman's throat.

"Release her, or I'll kill you," he said, his voice muffled, the words all soft. His face was a mask of pain, and he couldn't seem to draw in a breath. The Trustee only smiled at him, a fell grin that made his stomach turn to water.

"_Ra'faleth_, both of you. You'll die, you'll die." She turned to Delenn, murder in her eyes, so Lennier drew the blade through century-old flesh and opened up her throat.

xxx

The nurse who cleaned her wound this time was a Human male, and he was barely able to do his job. He kept sneaking glances at her face, her hair, and most especially her bone crest. Perhaps he had never seen her before, save for newspapers and ISN. No doubt she looked quite different in person.

"This is gonna hurt," he told her, and then he pushed a thin swab into the hole the ice pick had left behind. It did hurt, it hurt more than anything she could remember, more than the making of the wound itself, but Delenn clamped her teeth together and forced her face still. She would not give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her cry out. There were antiseptics on the swab, chemicals and compounds to clean the wound; thankfully the ice pick had not been poisoned, or she would be dead already. The nurse pulled the swab back out, and Delenn felt her fingertips pierce her palm.

"Time for the bandage." The nurse pulled out cloths and tape and a sticky sheet of quick-skin to slap over the top of the little hole in her shoulder. Delenn shook her head.

"Heal it." The nurse stared at her, brow knitted, until he realized what she was asking.

"Healing accelerator? It'll hurt worse than the swab, for the rest of the night, too." He made no move to withdraw the syringe from his kit. Delenn had seen a Warrior injected with a healing serum once – he had screamed louder than a woman giving birth, and had wept afterward. Cells were not designed to knit back together so quickly. But she could not afford to have her arm in a sling for the next several days, not if she were to meet with another assassin.

"Do it," she said, and as the nurse readied the syringe she saw John enter the small conference room where they had taken her. His face was hard, his fists clenched at his side. Delenn saw no more than that; she could not bear to meet his eye. It was just as well, though. The nurse chose that moment to carefully guide the long needle into the wound, his hand steady. Liquid warmth there, and it was almost pleasant for a second or two. The nurse continued to press the plunger down as he slowly pulled the syringe out, coating the interior surface of the wound with the healing serum. Delenn heard but did not see John suck in a sharp breath.

Then the pain came, a column of fire running through her shoulder. In truth it was no worse than the swab had been, and Delenn thought about smiling at the nurse. But the fire kept growing, burning hotter and hotter, and she found herself hunching over, trying to get away from it. The fire was inside, though, deep in her shoulder, running from the front nearly all the way to the back. She needed to get the fire out. She raised her right hand to reach over and pull it out, grab at her left shoulder and do something, but someone else's hand grabbed her before she could, holding her hand down firmly. Delenn couldn't see, blind from tears that spilled cool down her cheeks. She heard a sound in the air and slowly realized that it came from her throat, but before she could try and stop making the sound the darkness took her.

xxx

She was home, in her very own bed. There was a sweet smell in the air, and she was very warm. Then confusion set in. Where was home? Her quarters on Babylon 5? Her little sleeping cell on the _Valen'tha_? The Temple of Remembrance in the mountains above Tuzanor? Her father's house, in the river valley, behind the library and the market?

She was very warm. Too warm. Swaddled, and her arms couldn't move, she told them to move and they did not. Hot, she was so very hot, and the whole left side of her body hurt. Now that she aware of the pain, it seemed to bloom larger in her mind, until it consumed her.

"It's okay," she heard, a man's voice coming from far above her head. Where was she? "It's okay, I've got you." Someone had her. The pain and the heat and the confusion all coalesced into the certainty that whoever had her was the next, the third, and now he would finish the job the others had been unable to complete, and she could not even open her eyes to see.

Delenn tried to say no, tried to shout out, tried to pull herself out of the vice that held her and run to safety. Her lips wouldn't part, they seemed stuck together. The only movement she could manage was a trembling in her fingertips. _Open your eyes and see his face at the very least. See the man who is going to kill you_. She made herself look, even though the light was bright and stung her eyes and hurt her head terribly, even though her eyes seemed gummed together never to open again, even though she was afraid. She didn't recognize him at first; she had never seen him from this angle.

John held her, his face not far away at all but just over her own. His arms cradled her, and her head rested in his lap. He smiled as she looked up at him, and brushed his fingertips against her temple. "Hey. How are you feeling?" Delenn tried to answer, but her mouth was too dry, her throat closed up tight. John must have seen her answer in her face, because his smile grew a little wider, and he nodded slightly. "You'll be all right in another hour or two. I can't believe you did that. I saw a Marine get an accelerator shot once – he pissed himself and threw his head back so hard screaming that he cracked his skull open. They had to give him another shot." There was something in his face she hadn't seen directed her way in a very long time, if ever. "You're a hell of a woman, Delenn, you know that?"

"Where are we?" she managed, and her voice sounded like an old woman's. John reached over her, to a table whose top she couldn't see, and retrieved a small bottle of water. He carefully tipped it over her mouth, and the cool moisture was such a relief she was afraid she would cry. Already the pain in her shoulder had become an ache, bone-deep and terrible, but something she thought she could deal with.

"Your little pirate ship, in Brown Sector." Delenn knew she was just staring up at him, mouth probably hanging open unattractively. How did he know? Had he always known? "Of course," he went on, "we're not in Brown Sector any more. We're two jump gates away from the station, in hyperspace."

"Lennier." It was not a question. John nodded. "I won't say that he gave you up, but I think he decided it was best you get on your way, even if I had to come with you instead of him. Last I saw him, Franklin was doing his best to get his nose to go back where it belonged." He helped her sit up. She was still too weak to stand, but John didn't seem to mind. He put an arm around her waist, keeping her resting against his chest. _No, no, this wasn't how it was supposed to go, _she wanted to tell him, but she was just too tired.

John's voice was bright, almost cheerful. "And now it's just the two of us on our way to Centauri Prime."


	4. Chapter 4

**Four: Hide and Seek**

Had she thought her quarters too small to pace? Even that little rental room in Red Sector? After she folded the bed into the wall and cleared away everything else, there was only room for two long strides, or three short ones. One two three – it wasn't even enough time for a full thought.

_One two three – his smile when I awakened._

_One two three – the feel of his arms around me._

_One two three – so close, he's so close._

Delenn slapped her hand against the wall and gave up pacing. She sank to the floor, ignoring the dull ache that was all that remained of the pain in her shoulder, and tried to pray. She prayed for strength, for resolve, for determination, for focus.

All she could think of was what she had seen a few hours ago.

Yesterday she had spent the entire day in her little sleeping cell fighting the after-effects of the healing serum. John had checked in on her, but she'd been too tired and in too much pain to really notice. Today she had awakened relatively clear-headed, though she was still somewhat fatigued. However, she was awake enough to know that her plans had fallen into disarray. Instead of traveling to Centauri Prime with Lennier, who would do as she asked, quietly and efficiently, she was now flying with John Sheridan, who would think nothing of locking her in a prison cell and doing it with a smile, thinking all the while it was for her own good. She felt obscurely that he had managed to outsmart her, which was ridiculous, but the fact that he was here stung her in some strange way. All she had wanted to do was keep him at a distance and keep him safe, and he managed to keep wriggling in closer and closer.

He had come to check on her this afternoon. It was his third trip from the cabin down to the sleeping rooms in as many hours, and the very sound of his footsteps was enough to set Delenn's teeth on edge. Again, he stood in front of the door and waited, but she had set it to lock, and he could stand there for as long as he wanted, the door would not swing open on its own at his approach. She thought he was using it as a barometer of her feelings, and that when she wished to talk to him, she would unlock the door and allow him into her presence. _But she does not wish to talk to you_, she thought darkly.

His knock at the door startled her; the previous two times he had walked down here today, he had left upon discovering her room was locked to him. Delenn felt her heart jolt and begin to race. Her fingers shook as she touched the panel that would unlock the door.

John's eyes searched her face. Delenn thought she had arranged her features into her best default diplomat face – no smile but no frown, eyes open and clear, an openness that would invite the other to speak freely – but she could see from John's face that she had not succeeded.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his hand on the door frame, his body leaning in toward her. She crossed her arms and took a half-step back.

"Well, thank you."

"Can I get you anything?"

"I am perfectly capable of tending to myself now. I apologize for requiring your services yesterday; I was not myself." Delenn thought that to be a perfectly professional way of putting it, but she watched John's face first fall, then harden into something she had not seen from him before.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked. _Yes_, she thought. _I want you to leave, because I don't know how to think when you are near. Every decision I make is broken, and I'm finding it harder to care. Leave, John, because you are making me into someone I am not. I am already too little Minbari as it is; do not take away what is left. _She didn't say that, though – how could she? Not answering was answer enough, it seemed, as his eyes seemed to burn right through her.

"I thought..." he started, and then he shook his head, letting out a short, bitter laugh.

"What did you think?" Now he would not answer her, and the truth of the situation hit her suddenly. "You thought I would fall into your arms. You thought I would need comfort and solace and that I would let you..." _Take me. You thought I would let you take me and do with me as you wished. _"...provide that comfort."

Now John was the one taking a step back, his face slightly stunned. Delenn went on, knowing full well that she wasn't angry with him but with the Council, that she was angry with the entire universe. He was here and they weren't, so it seemed only fair that he should bear the brunt of her rage.

"I wanted you to stay on the station," she told him. "Now you will be missed, and anyone looking for me will have good reason to look elsewhere." That was only a practical truth that not even he could deny, but she felt like a craven saying it, when it was not the real reason, not at all. She wanted him to stay on the station because she did not trust herself around him.

John swallowed hard, looking anywhere but at her. For a moment she thought he would say something, but he only turned and walked back to the cabin, leaving her alone. Delenn stared at the door to his sleeping room for a minute or so before she finally stood back, allowing her door to swing closed. She didn't bother locking it. She did not think he would return any time soon.

Suddenly she was tired, so tired she could not stand, let alone pace. Delenn sank to the floor, wishing there were tears, but her eyes stayed stubbornly dry. _When you find yourself besieged by grief, despair, anger, hopelessness – the negative emotions that afflict even the wisest of us – seek catharsis. Purge yourself of darkness. Weather the storm and you will be the stronger for it_. Dukhat's words, and like so many of his words, they were ones that she lived by. She wanted to cry, to give herself over to the storm, but she felt nothing. Her skin and flesh and bones were a shell, and inside she was nothing, nothing at all. A hollow woman, all her dreams and hopes no more than smoke in the air.

She wanted to pray, or meditate, but she had no candles – the ship's tiny air recycling system could not handle them. When had she started to need such a crutch? Delenn felt ashamed just thinking about it. The truth was, though, that she could not begin to attempt to reach some focus unaided, so she picked a spot on the wall in front of her. The paint had peeled and chipped, revealing the unfinished gray structural board underneath. Delenn stared at it until her eyes unfocused and a few tears spilled down her cheeks, unheeded. She stared until she forgot that she was staring and her eyes slipped closed, and the ship disappeared.

Some time later – how much later she could not say – she stood, one of her knees creaking as she did so. John was here now; there was no changing that. He would not leave her on Centauri Prime to fend for herself. Fighting with him would only make it easier for anyone hunting her to pick them off. Best to put everything else aside and work with him.

She would have to apologize.

Delenn smoothed back her hair and took a drink of water, rinsing the stale taste of inactivity out of her mouth. A moment of hesitation called to her, and she fiddled with a pleat in her dress, listening. _Get it over with, Delenn_. She held her chin high and walked out of her room to the narrow hallway outside, raising her hand to knock at John's door.

But John hadn't locked it, and as soon as she stepped up it swung up on its own, revealing the room beyond. The mirror image of her own, mostly taken up by the bed when it was down and engaged. John was sleeping, soundly if the sounds he was making were any indication. He was on his stomach, his face turned her way, and at first all she saw was his face, smooth and relaxed in sleep. Delenn felt a sudden urge to sneak inside, sit on the floor beside him, and watch him sleep. But that was foolish, of course, and unnecessary; she would not be going through those rituals with him. She would leave him to sleep, and talk to him later.

As she prepared to step back and go back to her cell, Delenn saw what she had not before. John was wearing only a single article of clothing, a pair of absurdly small pants. _No, they are not pants, they are something else – what is the word?_ She couldn't remember. Whatever they were called, they covered him only from well below his waist to just below his...

Delenn felt herself blushing, which she had grown quite accustomed to since the Chrysalis. She also felt something else - her heartbeat quickened and her nipples hardened. She felt the soft tissues in her genitals begin to swell with blood, that low ache that demanded attention she didn't feel comfortable giving. But if John were the one paying attention...

Delenn shook her head and told herself to leave, to back away and return to her own quarters. But she was frozen there, staring. If his tiny pants were a little shorter, she would be able to see the bottom curve of his buttocks; she could nearly see the top. Not that bare skin would be much different from the view she already had. The cloth was tight, hiding nothing of his form. He seemed to be nothing but long, firm muscles, and she wanted to touch each and every single one. Touch? She wanted to climb on top of him and lick and taste, and if he awakened now she would let him do whatever he wanted. She would let him have her, body and soul.

It was that realization that finally brought her to her senses. Delenn tore her eyes away from his nearly-naked body and stumbled back to her own room. She pulled the bed down from the wall and sat on the edge, almost frightened as she became aware that she was trembling. The ache between her legs was stronger than she'd ever felt, so strong that she found herself sucking in deep breaths, not knowing how to deal with this Human thing that threatened to undo her. She could feel her pulse pounding away down there, and all she could see when she closed her eyes was John's body, those long muscles, those expanses of skin she wanted to taste. "Stop it, stop it, stop it," she told herself, tears prickling her eyes.

No voice commands on this little shuttle. Delenn reached over and slid her hand across the pad next to the door to lock it. She hated her stupid half-Human body, the way it did things without her permission. For a Minbari to become aroused was a process, one that was not reached without both partners willingly entering a sharing of their bodies and spirits. That was the basis of the _Shan'fal_ – how could two people join each other for life if they were not certain they would be able to arouse the other? The idea of becoming sexually aroused just by _looking_ was ridiculous, completely idiotic. How could Humans ever get anything done?

Even as Delenn realized that maybe she was beginning to understand humanity better, at least in this respect, she laid back on the narrow bed, hiking up her skirt. The ache was insistent; it had become almost painful. She had read about all aspects of Human sexuality before and after her transformation, and was familiar with the technical process of masturbation. She had never done so, however; sexual pleasure by its very nature was meant to be shared. To induce it by oneself was not only silly, it was sinful. There were too few Minbari as it was, and each generation there were fewer. It was incumbent upon each and every one of them to take a mate, and to bear children. That she had rendered herself incapable of doing so was a gross dereliction of duty. For the first time since she had seen the dagger, Delenn allowed that perhaps those who had declared her Anathema were not wholly without reason.

She would not touch herself. She would not give in to these base impulses, the animalistic urges of her changeling body. Even as she told herself this, she found her hands lifting her skirt, brushing her inner thighs. She paused and bit her lip, trying to stop, but she could not. Her pulse was like a drum beat in her head. The clothing in the way lifted or moved aside, Delenn slid two fingers against her labia, the outer folds thick and swollen. She was wet, and somehow that was arousing her, too. One finger brushed against her clitoris, and she cried out as her hips jerked up on their own.

Delenn froze. These walls were thin, just partitions dividing up the space inside the hull. Nothing was soundproof. She listened, head crooked around so she could stare at the door, waiting to hear John come to investigate. She waited and waited, her legs and hand starting to cramp, but the rest of the shuttle was still. Delenn grabbed the pillow with her other hand and bit into the corner of it, then rubbed her fingers against herself again. Good, good, it felt so good, she wanted to weep it felt so good, and then she remembered John's body, remembered all that naked skin, and thought how much she wanted it to be his fingers touching her now – the orgasm hit her before she knew what was happening. The pillow muffled some of her moan. She was distantly aware of her body thrashing, her hips moving to meet something that wasn't there, her head slamming back into the bare mattress.

She came back to herself slowly, her body slightly shaking. Delenn shoved the pillow aside and breathed long, deep breaths. There was a different ache between her legs now, almost sweet, and she stretched, rubbing her fingers gently against herself again, avoiding the areas that were now too sensitive. She felt simply wonderful – chemicals in her brain, she knew. Yes, she understood Humans much better now.

The euphoria didn't last. Now she knew, and wouldn't it be so much better if it were John with her next time? Humans didn't always mate for life as Minbari did, and he had been married before; he had likely been intimate with more than one woman, maybe even several. He would know just how to touch her, how to make her feel the most amazing sensations.

Delenn took off her clothes and cleaned herself up. It seemed she could not wash her hands enough. Would he be able to know what she had done the next time he saw her? The thought was mortifying. She redressed, a high-collared dress with long sleeves and skirts, though the fabric was thinner and filmier than she would have liked; it was the best she could do with what clothes she'd packed. She folded the bed back up into the wall, sat on the floor and prayed. She prayed strength, for resolve, for determination, for focus.

Hours later, she had received none of those things. What she got instead was an excuse, but the more and more she thought about it, the better it sounded. _It is done. I am now what I am, and there is no going back. What difference does it make who I take as a mate? Our mating will be fruitless regardless of who I choose._

_I should be able to choose who I want._

As though she had summoned him, there was a knock at her door, startling her so much she actually heard her teeth click together. "Delenn?" he said, and just the sound of his voice was enough to rekindle the now never-cold ember of desire.

She stood and waved the door open.

xxx

John hummed to himself as he checked the bottom shelf. There were several things he didn't recognize, but that was definitely a canned ham, and he grabbed it to go in the pillowcase along with everything else. The tin clinked against the bottle of Coke – honest-to-God Coca Cola. He hadn't had one in at least five years. John smiled.

The first time he'd met a Brakiri, the alien had been wearing a bright turquoise Hawaiian shirt, and had ended nearly every sentence with "you hear me, man?" Why they loved Humans, and Earth, and anything to do with Humans and Earth so much, John didn't know. He didn't really care, either. The pirate ship's captain had been a Brakiri, and it had only taken John two days to figure out how to break open his personal stores, which were full of the kinds of things that EarthForce didn't see fit to send its men. And tonight, he was going to have a feast. He locked the room back up and climbed the ladder from the cargo hold back up to the main deck.

It was a sweet little ship. If John ever wanted to hang up his uniform and take up smuggling, he might look into picking himself up one of these. A little bigger than a standard shuttle, but not much more. A spacious cabin, two nice though very small rooms near the stern, a sizable cargo hold, and more hidden nooks and crannies than you could shake a stick at. There was one tucked right under the instrument panel that was just big enough for Delenn, if she pulled her knees up to her chest and curled up in a ball. Should anything suspicious waylay them between here and Centauri Prime, John planned on shoving her inside.

They were two days out from Babylon 5, and John reckoned they had another four or five to go. It depended on the route, which he was making up as he went along. He zigged away from Centauri Prime, off in the direction of Sector 120; then he zagged back, but at a shallow angle, heading roughly toward Earth. He doubled back on their trail twice. They were coming up on a gate in the old abandoned Dilgar system. John planned to leave hyperspace for a bit, maybe lurk behind a moon, check to make sure they weren't being followed.

It was actually kind of exciting, if he let himself forget the reason why he was doing it.

But he knew he wouldn't enjoy the meal he'd assembled if he sat by himself in the cabin, as he'd spent most of the last two days. Delenn had enjoyed her little snit for long enough, and it was time for her to at least be civil. He knew why she was pissed at him, but it would do no good for either of them to wallow in it. John walked back to the aft sleeping berths – a long walk, all of about eight paces – and raised his hand to knock quietly on her door. He could hear her voice, muffled and quiet inside. She was speaking in the Minbari language, and he wanted to do nothing more than just lean his head against the door and listen to it. During the war, he'd come to hate the little snippets of Minbari he heard here and there; it was the sound of death, of destruction, of genocide. Now, though...

He knocked, and her voice cut off immediately. John found himself listening to the silence, trying to figure out if it was an angry silence, a wary silence, or maybe just a patient, long-suffering silence. "Delenn?" he asked, trying his best not to sound as worried as he felt. What if she never forgave him?

But she did come to the door and open it, stand there and look at him, her face utterly unreadable. John realized that aside from the two nights he'd seen her in her nightgown, he'd only seen her in formal robes before, the equivalent to his uniform. She was wearing something soft and filmy, making her eyes look almost blue in the light.

He wanted to rip the dress off her and shove her up against the wall.

Instead, he said, "I was wondering if you wanted to eat with me, in the cabin. The captain had all kinds of Earth delicacies, some stuff even I haven't eaten in years."

For a second he was sure she was going to refuse. But she smiled, that smile he used to think was just for him. That she could smile it at him now just showed that it meant nothing at all. "Of course. Thank you, Captain." _So we're back to Captain_. John smiled back, surprised that he couldn't hear his face creak with the effort, and gestured for her to leave. He followed her to the main cabin, where he had assembled the little picnic between the two chairs. He'd left some music playing quietly in the background, Debussy or Zolorov, something light and airy, but seeing Delenn sit down with her back straight, knees drawn together, chin up as though she were girding herself for an unpleasant meeting, he decided to shut the music off.

"I didn't know what Human foods you'd had before, and what you liked."

"Michael has introduced me to many things. Most of it, I do not care for." So she was on a first name basis with Garibaldi now?

John threw her what he knew to be one of his more charming smiles. "You seemed to like what we ate at the Fresh Air." He hadn't intended it to be a rebuke, but she took it that way, lowering her eyes, her fingers twisting in her lap. "Unless you were just being nice for my sake."

Delenn looked back up at him, eyes wide. "No! I didn't...that was a very enjoyable evening." Another smile, and now he didn't think he was imagining the air between them thawing.

Yesterday, the first day on the shuttle, she had slept off the after-effects of the serum. He'd brought her glasses of water and some warm vegetable broth once her stomach had settled. She had been groggy and tired, and John decided to wait till the next day to talk about their plans.

But today had been a trial. Delenn had locked herself up in her room and spoke to him only a little, and coldly at that. "I wanted you to stay on the station," she had said, a bit imperiously. "Now you will be missed, and anyone looking for me will have good reason to look elsewhere." John found he had a hard time arguing with her logic. So aside from a brief nap, since he'd skipped the previous night's sleep programming in the route, he had stayed in the cabin, staring at the screens. He'd been half-expecting to be told to turn the shuttle around and return to B5 after they'd made it to Centauri Prime, like he was no more than a bus driver.

But now it seemed they were okay again, at least enough to sit in the same room together. He kind of wanted to make sure she knew he wasn't going to put the moves on her, that he just wanted to be a friend, a good friend, the kind of friend who helped keep you from getting assassinated, but he decided it would be best not to draw any more attention to the events of today. Best to ignore it, water under the bridge, and move on. In that spirit, John cracked his knuckles and showed off the spread he'd put together.

"This is a ham, which we used to have every year for Christmas. Some fruit, though I drained off most of the syrup, I know you don't like things too sweet. Mashed potatoes, from powder, but there was a freeze-dried tab of butter I mixed in, the extent of my culinary prowess. And some green beans. They're not fancy, but my mom would say you have to have a veggie." He looked up at her expectantly.

"It looks wonderful, John."

He dished up two plates, and for a few moments they ate in silence. The ham was too salty, the fruit soggy, the potatoes only okay, and the green beans limp and bland, but goddamn if it wasn't one of the better meals he'd had in awhile. Delenn only took a few bites of the ham, he saw (_more for me later_), but polished off the potatoes and fruit. John watched as she speared a green bean and looked at it quizzically, jiggling it a bit.

"It's a green bean," he explained again.

"This is a vegetable?"

"It's a...bean vegetable."

"A legume?" He hated it when she knew more English than he did. Aware that he was watching a bit too closely, John sat back with a grin as Delenn raised the single green bean to her mouth and delicately nibbled at the end. She made a face at him, half regret, half befuddlement, her mouth curved in a delicious line, and set her fork back down.

"She doesn't like legumes. Check."

"Who are you talking to?" she asked, and she didn't need to say anything. He could read the forgiveness on her face.

"Just keeping track, for future reference." He tapped his temple.

"She doesn't like the red or pink meats, either."

"Fish and poultry only, check." He held up a finger, mock serious, and the expectant look on her face was gratifying. John wanted nothing more than to sweep everything aside and cover her with kisses, but no. That time was past. "And now, for the pièce de résistance..."

He'd laughed out loud when he'd found it on the shelf, the laugh so surprising that he almost bent over double from the force of it. It was lighter than he expected, and he turned it over and over, examining it from all sides. Before he'd gone to get Delenn, he had unwrapped it and put it on a nice plate. Now he drew it out from behind his chair with a flourish.

She looked at it, then back at him, and if she'd had eyebrows, they'd have been raised. He waved his hand over it. "Tada!" Still nothing.

"Should I be excited?" she asked, _sotto voce_. John nodded gravely. "Oh, John, it's wonderful!" A long pause. "What is it!"

"It's a cake." It was a cake! A frosted cake with sugar flowers and vines, and there'd been a little plastic sack of candles with it, and John lit them now. He was pretty sure it was a chocolate cake, but honestly, it didn't even matter.

"To have one's cake and eat it too. I see now, it's a treat. I did not know grown men would become so excited over a pastry." John lit the last candle and looked up at her suspiciously. "Of course, you have set it on fire. This would make anything exciting."

"This is a chocolate cake. This is a real chocolate cake, baked in a real oven, frosted with real frosting. Delenn. Nothing could make this more exciting." How a Brakiri pirate had got his hands on a vacuum-sealed chocolate cake, he didn't know, and neither did he care. They blew out the candles before they made too much smoke, and he started cutting. One big slice for him, one smaller and daintier slice for Delenn; secretly, he hoped she wouldn't want any of her frosting. She took her plate from him with her bottom lip between her teeth, and took another one of those tiny, tentative bites.

She paused with the fork still in her mouth, and her eyes grew wide, and John knew he had her.

xxx

The cake was in ruins between them. John was telling a story about a childhood birthday, one of the few rituals their peoples shared. Delenn wanted to ask him to stop, her stomach and sides and even her face hurt from laughing, but the last thing she wanted him to do was stop.

"I found out years later they were all in on it, but I think that makes it even better. So there I was, in my little fireman's hat and my little fireman's overalls and my little fireman's boots, and I'm out directing the traffic as it leaves the house, when I hear my mom start yelling. 'Fire, fire!' I turn around and sure enough, black smoke's rising from the back yard. So I run to the back just as fast as my short little legs can take me."

"Short?"

"Yeah, I didn't hit my growth spurt till I was almost fourteen. I was a short, chubby thing as a kid, something which to this day gives my sister Liz endless joy. Anyway, I get back there, and the trash can's on fire, great big flames just shooting out the top. Little did I know that my Uncle Grant was right around the corner with a fire extinguisher, just in case. My mom goes, 'Oh, thank goodness, it's you. What should I do, Johnny?' And I'd be happy to forget this next part, but no one has ever let me forget – I put my hands on my hips..."

At this point, John demonstrated the gesture, face set in a very stern and serious expression, and Delenn could see him as he must have looked as a child, clad in a miniature uniform, so very proud of himself, and so very brave. Had his parents known the kind of man he would become even then?

"...and I looked right at my mom, and I said, 'Ma'am, I need you to step aside,' and I waved her towards the swing set. Then I hitched up my little fireman's overalls, and I bypassed the bucket of water that had already been prepared for me, and I went straight to the water hose. I cranked her up to high – I didn't hear it, but at this point my mom told my dad to put the damned camera down and keep me from doing something stupid, but he just kept on filming – and I blasted that water right into that trash can."

Delenn had an idea where this story was going, and she started laughing helplessly.

"Instead of putting the fire out, I knocked the trash can right over, and everything inside that was on fire just _erupted_ out of the thing, all over the ground. One piece of wrapping paper flew over and caught the tablecloth on fire. Here come uncles and aunts and cousins, and Liz is squalling in the background, and I've got a little pudgy hand up shouting 'Stay back, stay back, I've got this under control,' and before anyone can get to me I spray just about everyone with the hose. At this point my dad finally puts the camera down – the vid from this point on is a view of the corner of the house at a ninety degree angle – and runs over to stop me before I make anything worse."

Delenn was laughing so hard she could feel tears trickling down her cheeks, and she had to fight to breathe. "And did he? Stop you?"

"By that time, I had put out the flames in the trash can and on the ground, and had started in on the table. Ruined the rest of the cupcakes, by the way, I was pissed about that the next day, let me tell you."

She felt curiously light-headed, and she didn't feel she could attribute all of that feeling to the laughter. "When did you no longer wish to become a firefighter?" she asked after the story had ended, and she had regained some semblance of composure.

John shrugged. "I don't know exactly. I know there was a period in there where I wanted to hunt the native dinos on the Orion colony, and of course I always had this vague dream of being a pro ball player, but I know that by the time I was in high school, I was dead set on being a pilot."

"Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if you had chosen a different path?"

He looked right at her, his eyes locked on hers, as serious as she had ever seen him. There was a lengthy pause, so long she thought he might not reply. "In the past, maybe. Not anymore."

Delenn found she couldn't meet his gaze. She busied herself with cleaning up the remains of their meal, tidying up the cabin. John didn't move to help, and she was painfully aware that he was watching her. The task didn't take very long, though, and she found herself with nothing to do but to sit down again, the distance between them seeming to shrink. She wracked her brain, trying to think of what topic they could cover next, or perhaps a graceful way to thank him for the evening and return to her room, when suddenly he was beside her, leaning in front of her, his face just before her own.

"John..." Delenn pressed herself back into the chair, her hands tight on the arm rests, but he wasn't looking at her. He was studying the instrument panel, one hand braced on the chair just above her head. She could smell him, and the urge struck her to lean up, nuzzle his throat, press her lips against the pulse she could see beating there. Before she could even decide what to do with this thought, he was gone, sitting back down in his own chair.

"The gate's up ahead," he said, and then he was busy plotting a course to bring them out of hyperspace. For a few minutes, his attention was diverted.

Delenn thought that this was as good a time as any to make her exit, but instead, she watched him at the controls. Deft, economical movements, the seemingly effortless work of someone who knows what they're doing, making it look as simple as can be. His face was a study in concentration, and Delenn looked at him, taking full advantage of this rare opportunity, to look all she wanted without him or anyone else aware of it.

Looking was not all she wanted to do. Even now, as she held her breath waiting for their return to normal space, she wanted to touch him, to leave her chair and climb into his lap, to kiss him until she ran out of air. There was a funny feeling in her stomach, a tightening and stretching, and for a moment she wondered at the intensity of her body's response to his mere presence. But no, that was the gate up ahead. They were caught in its relentless pull, sucked down to the faux singularity at its core; the molecules and atoms that made her up sang out, wanting to fly ahead into that abyss. She could see dead black space ahead of them, and the black looked like the rent in the fabric of the universe, instead of the gate they were flying into. For a half-second the forces were equaled, the pull and the push, and as always, Delenn closed her eyes against it.

Then they were through, and the last of the sensation melted away, leaving her feeling as though she'd had a gentle shove between the shoulder blades. Her eyes flicked up to the chronometer – only thirty seconds had passed, though it had felt like ten minutes at least. Once upon a time, she had been almost accustomed to the feeling, had been able to work right through it with no more than that half-second's hesitation, but it had been too long. She felt itchy and ill at ease.

"Looks clear," John said, startling her a bit. There was nothing visible to the naked eye through the cockpit, and the sensors and instrument panel meant little to her. John didn't quite relax into his seat, but she saw him slide his fingertips away from the controls in his arm rest. No weapons aboard this ship, but he had other things at his disposal. Delenn hoped they wouldn't have to use them.

"I'm going to park us behind the main moon of Dilgar 4. There's some radiation coming off the giant, too. Should cover our signature should anyone do a scan." She could see the gas giant up ahead, probably no more than a hundred thousand kilometers away. They would reach it in around an hour. Delenn settled back into her seat and watched. No matter how many times she made the trip, she was always a bit in awe upon arriving at a new planet, even an uninhabited one. Each one was different, and beautiful in its own way. Dilgar 4 was a soft creamy white with streaks of amber and pink, encircled by a delicate ring that glowed a nearly pure white. How strange, that toxic gases and rocks could be so lovely.

They flew in silence, the only action beside the growth of the planet ahead of them the dropping of three sensor relays, all automated by the computer. John reached over and took her hand, and she almost laughed at the thought that it was almost worth it, all the events of the last few days, just to be able to hold his hand like this, to be close to him.

"What is it?" he asked, squeezing her fingers. She couldn't think of anything to say, so she just shook her head.

The moon's shadow swallowed them up. John pressed some buttons and moved some sliders, setting the engines to fire periodically to keep them between the moon and the planet.

"How long do you plan to stay here?" she asked, barely able to get the words out before a yawn took her by surprise.

"Eight hours or so. If someone is tailing us, it's hard to say how far behind us they are, or if they drifted off the beacon in hyperspace to keep us from noticing. Hey, I'll stay up and keep an eye out. Why don't you go get some sleep?"

Delenn shook her head again. She didn't want him out here by himself, keeping a lonely vigil for her sake. Neither did she want to return to her little room and sleep on the narrow, hard pallet there by herself. She would have to eventually, she knew, but she felt like being obstinate, wanting to postpone the inevitable.

So they sat, the sensors broadcasting nothing but the background noise of the universe, the screens empty. After some time, John darted to the back of the ship - to use the lavatory, she guessed. But he returned with a hair brush, _her_ hair brush, and she frowned at him.

"Did you go into my room?"

"Just for a second. I didn't snoop around or touch anything, Scout's honor. Stand up." He was going to brush her hair. Delenn couldn't argue with that, so she stood, and he grabbed the cushion from her chair and set it on the floor in front of him. She sat, and he took a moment to get situated, scooting in the chair until his knees came to either side of her shoulders. Delenn closed her eyes at that, then was unable to stifle the noise she made as he put his hands on her hair, pulling it behind her shoulders and drawing his fingers through it.

Delenn hoped he was keeping an eye on the screens, because she certainly wasn't. Ivanova had brushed her hair once, and it had been a revelation; since then, only she had maintained it, and it simply did not feel the same, brushing her own hair. She didn't know why the sensations should be any different, but they were, so much so that she felt as though she might melt straight through the floor.

"Is it still weird, having hair?" he asked, dividing her hair into sections and brushing out each one.

"Yes," she admitted. He put the brush aside and ran his fingers along the place where the hair grew out from the bottom of her bone crest. There was no way she could hide her shiver. "Sometimes I walk past a mirror and I catch a glimpse of myself through the corner of my eye, and it's a surprise. I turn, expecting to see a stranger behind me. Other times, I feel as though my head is too light, too fragile. I worry about being hit in the back of the head.

He rubbed his fingers against her scalp. "The skull's pretty strong," he murmured. "Even our thin Human skulls."

"I know. I know this, intellectually, but when you've spent your whole life accustomed to a certain weight, it is not a matter of days or weeks or even months to get used to it." He hummed at that, then resumed brushing. Delenn waited for him to ask more questions, but no more were forthcoming.

How long he brushed her hair, she had no way of knowing. It wasn't until her chin hit her chest and she had to put a hand out to keep from falling sideways that she realized how near sleep she was. John's hands were on her shoulders, helping her up at first, but then he guided her to sit down on the chair in front of him, between his knees. He pulled all her hair over to one side, then rested his chin against her shoulder, whispering into her ear.

"Are you ready for bed now?" It wasn't fair, that he should ask her such a question when she was so sleepy, her mind foggy and unable to follow a logical train of thought. She heard herself tell him no, because she didn't know what he was asking, if he meant _ready for sleep?_ or if he meant something else entirely. He began to rub her neck, scratching the skin lightly with his nails, tracing a line down what part of her spine wasn't covered by her dress with a fingertip, then following it with his lips.

Delenn shivered again, though she was far from cold.

"I think about you all the time, you know," he said, punctuating the sentence with another kiss, this one to the side of her neck. "I try not to, even tonight I told myself I was just going to be your friend and nothing else, but I can't manage to get you out of my head. And I don't want to." He brushed his nose against her skin, and she heard him inhale. "When you invited me to dinner, that first time, did you know what you were doing?" he asked. It took Delenn a moment to translate the words, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd had to consciously do that.

"I wanted to learn more about Humans." A chuckle in her ear, and then he kissed it, too. "I wanted to learn more about you," she clarified.

She felt him nod. "I've wanted to kiss you since that night." Kisses down her jaw, back to her ear. His tongue traced the edge of it, and he nipped at her earlobe with his teeth. "You ruined me that night, Delenn. I've been yours since the moment I saw you in that black dress."

She wanted to turn and face him; she wanted to flee. Torn between the two, Delenn froze, unable to do much more than try to keep her breathing steady. One of John's hands was on her stomach, the other slid down her arm. He clasped her hand for a moment, then rested his hand on her waist, bringing it up her side. A shaky breath tore out of her throat, and he sucked gently on the tendon in her neck as his fingers brushed the underside of her breast.

When the panel beeped loudly, she jumped so abruptly that she heard John's teeth click together when the top of her head banged into his jaw. For one utterly nonsensical moment, she thought the ship was warning her specifically. _I see what you are doing, and you had better end this foolishness before you do something you'll regret. _The time of regret was over, though; she was smitten beyond recall, and he had finally wormed his way past all her defenses.

Delenn waited for him to whisper something in her ear, to resume the slide of his hands over her body. Even now, John's hands gripped her tightly, holding her close, her back against his chest. She could hear nothing but his breathing, harsh and a bit uneven, and could feel it puff against her cheek. Delenn turned her head, and this time, she would kiss him, capture his mouth fully, show him that she wanted him just as much as he apparently wanted her.

Instead, John maneuvered her aside and out of the way, and he stood and leaned over the instrument panel. Delenn blinked and swallowed disappointment and rejection. Then her eyes focused on the screens as well.

Another ship had flown out of the gate, and was even now lurking out there, just on the other side of the moon.


	5. Chapter 5

**Five: One Journey Ends**

Two hours after the first ship had come through, a second had joined it. They were stationed on the other side of the moon, in a mirror of the holding pattern their own ship was currently engaged in. One of the ships was nearly twice the size of the other, but even the smaller far outweighed their little Brakiri smuggling ship. John still couldn't tell just what kind of ships they were. To keep the size of the sensor relays as small as possible, so another ship wouldn't spot them and use them like a trail of breadcrumbs, an arrow pointing right to their location, they were simply unable to collect much data beyond the basics: size and location.

He was fairly certain that one of the ships, the big one, was Centauri. The thought filled him with a cold dread. If the Centauri knew they were coming, even if they managed to get out of here, no doubt the planetary defenses would be ready and assembled, just waiting to snatch them up the minute the jumped clean of the gate. In that case, there was no hope. No hope at all.

John glanced over at Delenn. It didn't seem as though she were even blinking. Her eyes were fixed on the screens. He didn't like the color of her face, pallid and ashy; he didn't like the thin press of her lips together; he didn't like the way her fingers twisted at each other and the fabric of her dress. John reached over, brushed her hair away from her face, letting his fingers linger against her cheek.

"What are they waiting for?" she whispered. John didn't know, and he couldn't think of an answer. If it were only one ship, he could understand the hesitation. What their little smuggling ship lacked in size and weaponry, it made up for in speed. He thought he'd be able to out-fly either of those ships if he'd been up against one or the other, but both? They could come at him from two sides, box him in, keep him pressed up against the gas giant, maybe drive him right down into its depths and let the pressure do the work. He didn't know _why_ they were waiting.

He finished programming the last of the three drones. In fifteen minutes, he would send the first one off. It wasn't much bigger than his own body, about two meters long, but it would send out signals to make it look like the twin of their own ship. They would have to be nearly in visual range before they'd be able to see it was just a fake. John hoped that they'd take the bait and chase after it, looping around the gas giant and away from the gate. If they didn't, he had the other two drones programmed to mimic larger ships, make it look like they weren't alone.

If they didn't go for _that_, he would have to switch to Plan B. He just hadn't figured out what Plan B was.

"I wish I hadn't been angry with you today," Delenn said, and John looked over to see that her eyes were shiny with tears, though she still stared at the screens.

"It's okay." She hadn't even really been that mad at him, at least that he could see, just sort of sulky and standoffish. But she shook her head, biting her lip. "Delenn, it's okay."

"I wish I'd invited you to my bed. I wish I'd known you." She drew in a shaky breath then, and the sound tore through John's gut like a bullet.

"This isn't over yet." She shook her head again, and it hurt like hell to see the defeat in her eyes.

"You said you'd throw me out the airlock and save everyone else the trouble. Did you mean it?"

"What are you talking about?"

She looked at him, her face waxy and pale, her lips a bloodless slash. There was a fine sheen of sweat on her brow. John had never seen her look like this, not even that first night in the rented room. "When they come for us, don't let them take me. Don't let them take me away. The time for a quick death is over. John, _don't let them take me_."

Now it was his turn to shake his head. He wasn't going to listen to her say this, he wasn't even going to acknowledge it, but she pressed on. "You said you wouldn't let them hurt me. You promised. Promise me again, right now."

He couldn't, he couldn't say it. She wanted him to promise to kill her, and he wouldn't say those words. He would do it, though. Even as he stood and turned away from her, he knew he would do it, in the end. If the drones didn't work, if he couldn't slip away, if everything failed and the ships came for them, he would end her life rather than let her be taken, to be subjected to God knew what. He wasn't going to put a gun to her head, though, or shove her out into the cold vacuum of space. The airlock. If he sucked in the air slowly enough, she wouldn't even know it was happening. She would just fall asleep, aware one moment, unconscious the next, as quiet and peaceful as he could make it.

The mere thought was enough to start a clatter in his brain, to make his gut twist and seize, the knot under his sternum somehow growing even larger. _God, please, don't let it come to that_.

He watched the ships drift closer to each other, until their signatures merged and the sensors only sent back one image. There was something there he was missing, but he couldn't see it. It was like having a name on the tip of your tongue, but worse. Delenn's eyes darted to the clock on the far right-hand screen, the one keeping track of how much time remained before the first drone was launched – five minutes. She stood then, arms hugging her own waist. John wanted to hold her, but he couldn't now, so he contented himself with putting a hand on her back for a second. She didn't seem to notice.

Why were the ships practically on top of one another? They should have been moving into position, one to the north and one to the south, or east and west, or in-system and out-system. If nothing else, one should have taken up a guarding position just outside the gate, to interdict them should he try and flee. Instead, they hung together, the distance between them probably able to be counted in the tens of meters. It made no sense.

Delenn sucked in a breath, and John saw that one of the ships was moving. Its signature grew smaller – it was moving _away_, and toward the gate at that. He laughed, the tension in his gut gone as though it had never been there. He saw Delenn turn to stare, and he jumped up and grabbed her, hugging her tight and swinging her around once.

"They're not here for us! They don't even know we're here!" She didn't understand, and was in fact staring at him as though he had gone mad. John canceled the drone command with less than thirty seconds to spare, then hugged her again, more solidly this time.

"The other ship..." she said, but he just shook his head.

"It'll be going soon, too." They turned back to the screens. "If you were going to do something illegal, where would you go?" he asked, keeping an arm around her waist. Her answer came slowly, as though she wasn't yet sure they were in the clear. "Where no one else was looking."

"In an abandoned system, perhaps? Delenn, I think they're smuggling ships, just like ours. They rendezvoused here, drew up side by side, and transferred cargo. Now they're heading back." Indeed, the second ship was heading for the gate now, leaving them alone and unmolested.

Delenn's knees buckled slightly, and she put a hand on the console for support. John pulled her close and kissed her temple. "It was different before, wasn't it? This time, you had time to think about it." She nodded, her fingers hooked into his shirt front and back. He held her until her breathing slowed and she relaxed in his arms.

He walked her back to the sleeping berths, and she leaned against him almost drunkenly. He'd set alarms to high should anything pop up on the sensors at all; he needed sleep, too, or he'd be worthless soon. Stims could only do so much. Delenn sat down heavily on the bed, and John knelt to slip off her shoes. "Do you want me to get you a nightgown?" he asked, and she shook her head, laying down, her eyes closed. John turned to head back to his own room, but Delenn grabbed his hand, her grip tight.

"Don't go," she said. He stood there for a moment, wondering what exactly she meant. She cracked open one eye to look at him, then tugged on his hand. John murmured something indistinct, more of a hum than a word, and kicked off his own shoes. The only way there'd be room for the both of them on the pallet was if he spooned her, so he did. She fit against him perfectly, and he let out a sigh as he draped an arm around her waist. John wanted to stay awake, to revel in the feel of her, to listen to her breathe and know she was safe, but sleep claimed him almost immediately.

xxx

The one thing he hated about living on ships is that he never knew the time until he looked at the clock. When John woke up, his body was telling him it was about eighteen hundred hours, for all that meant. If his body was accurate, that would mean he'd been sleeping for almost twelve hours. He stretched a little – it certainly felt like more sleep than he'd had in a month of Sundays.

Stretching pressed him up against Delenn, still curled in front of him, her body lovely and warm and pliant against his. It had been a damned long time since he'd woke up with a woman in his bed, and John let himself bask in it for just a little bit. Only a little bit, though – his stomach was growling, for starters, and even though he was positive the alarms would have roused him if they'd sounded, he wanted to check and make sure everything was kosher, just in case.

Delenn's breathing was so slow he found himself counting between the exhale and the inhale. He could get almost to five, which just seemed too long to him. Every now and then, he had to remind himself that she was still part-alien; maybe Minbari just had a different breathing pattern. In any event, it was relaxing to listen to, and he felt himself being lulled back to sleep.

He was halfway there when she jerked in his arms, and he wondered if she'd just fallen in her dream, or maybe opened a door onto something scary. She certainly had enough floating around in her brain recently to warrant a good old-fashioned nightmare. "Delenn?" For a second he was sure that she was going to freak out and tell him to get out of her bed, but she only sighed.

"You're very warm," she murmured, her hand finding his. "What is your body temperature?"

"Ninety-eight point six."

"On what scale?"

"Fahrenheit," he answered, smiling into her hair. She made a disgusted sound, then shifted so that his arm was more firmly around her body. She said nothing else, and they laid there for long enough that he began to wonder if she had fallen back asleep.

_I wish I'd invited you to my bed. _She'd said that last night, when they both thought that they were trapped, and she thought the end was nigh. How had she meant it? Maybe she just meant like this, to hold and be held, to be close, rather than to make love. John would certainly prefer the latter, but he didn't know of any way to ask her without making it seem like he was being pushy about it. If, now that the danger was no longer imminent, she decided that this was all she wanted, he could live with that. Pressing his nose into her hair, John figured he could do a lot worse.

Some time later, how much later he didn't know, the alarms sounded. His first thought was that the sensors had detected an asteroid headed their way, or perhaps a radiation flare from the gas giant. John climbed off the bed and stumbled down to the cabin, hearing Delenn follow behind him a few seconds later. "What is it?" she called out, an edge of fear in her voice.

"Probably nothing. I forgot to set any kind of differentiation on the alarm settings." John leaned over the instrument panel, scanning the screens, and it took a second for the various bits and pieces of data to resolve into one clear picture.

Another ship had joined them in the abandoned Dilgar system, and it was no little smuggling ship. Delenn recognized it before he did, and she sat down heavily in her chair.

"It's a Minbari warship, isn't it?" he asked, his voice sounding leaden to his own ears. He didn't need to see Delenn's nod to know he'd guessed right.

There was no time to do or say anything to her; he only hoped he'd have a chance later. John sat down and leaned close to the screens, hands splayed over the buttons, knobs, sliders and controls. The warship immediately took up an angle at negative twenty percent of the elliptic, to start following a sine wave flying pattern, the fastest and most thorough searching grid there was. The Minbari would find them, there was no doubt of that. He'd seen it too many times himself, and this time, he didn't have any nukes up his sleeve.

They had one shot, and one shot only, and it relied almost entirely on the element of surprise. John readied the drones, to shoot out at max speed in three different directions, while he took the smuggling ship in a fourth, right for the gate.

Before he could launch them, the sensors picked up a broadcast, coming from the warship. John hesitated a moment, then switched it on. The speakers blared out a Minbari voice, the language utter gibberish to his ears, so he just watched Delenn's face. Surprise first, then dismay, then suspicion.

"What are they saying?"

"'To Delenn of Mir, former Satai of the Council, we offer you asylum. Reveal yourself, and we will protect you, until such time as the truth may be known.'"

"Is it a trap, do you think?" He had a finger on the button that would launch the drones. The time for such a gambit was rapidly dwindling.

"Minbari do not practice deceit, do not believe in 'traps,' not as you do." John could have smiled in other circumstances. "To offer me protection as a means to draw me out, only to mean me harm, would be a lie, and most dishonorable."

"Do you want to turn yourself in, then?" This was her call, and he wasn't going to make it for her. She thought about it for five seconds, her eyes closed, her face a peaceful mask.

"No."

John launched the drones.

Little ships like this had artificial grav systems, in lieu of rotating sections. Most of the time, they worked just fine, and the sensation was hardly distinguishable from real gravity. As John zipped around the moon so close that he could see a shimmer of fire around the cockpit from the meager atmosphere they ripped through, the sudden change in velocity was enough to scramble the grav systems for a few seconds. He stuck his feet through the foot rest on the chair by habit, and found himself standing. Delenn was not so lucky, and he watched her fly straight up. She almost looked graceful, and was able to get a hand up to keep her head from smacking into the ceiling. Then the systems rebooted, and gravity reasserted itself. Delenn came down, and he hoped she hadn't broken an ankle or worse; he didn't have time to check on her.

Coming around the moon, the warship wasn't quite in visual range, but he knew where to look. There was a glint in space, off to his right. He thought it had gone after one of the drones. "Delenn, hold on!" He gave her three seconds to grab something, then punched the engines hard.

It was going to be touch and go, whether he would make it to the gate before the warship knew which signature was real and came after them. He also hoped he wasn't burning too much fuel. It would do no good to escape only to end up stranded in hyperspace.

John hooted out a laugh. Time to turn off that part of his brain and just fly. He was John Sheridan, he was Starkiller, he went up against Minbari warships and won, by God, and he was going to do it again today.

The time seemed to crawl by, but slowly, the gate grew closer. The warship had finally honed in on them and was in pursuit, the distance between them shrinking at a prodigious rate. Delenn shook her head, staring at the screens. "They could shoot us any time they wanted."

"Maybe their offer was sincere?" John said, watching her prod her ankle again. She swore it didn't hurt, but she kept looking at it. If the worst they came away with was a sprained ankle, he'd count them lucky as hell.

"Sincere or not, I do not trust it. I do not know who leads that vessel, whose decision it was to offer asylum, if they can back up their words with action. There are too many unknowns for me, John."

It was a solid tactical analysis. A glance at the clock told him that they'd been running for forty-five minutes, and there were only a few more to go. It looked like they would beat the Minbari warship to the gate, but only by a minute or two. He flicked a button on his arm rest and set the controls.

"What are you doing?"

"As we fly through the gate, I'm gonna lay down a line of chaff. It should spread out to fill the gate before they get to it."

He turned to grin at her, but was surprised to see her expression, aghast and horrified.

"John, you can't! We don't know the nature of their pursuit, you can't just..."

"I won't. They can either slow down and clear it out, or run through it. Nothing would be big enough to really damage their ship, but it'll scramble their sensors, maybe take out some auxiliary systems. Either way, it buys us some time."

She didn't like it, he could tell, but she withdrew her protest. John entered the commands into the computer, then took them back through the gate. "Chaff's away." The gate stayed open for a few minutes, and he kept an eye on the screen, waiting to see the warship join them. It didn't, and just as they were leaving range he saw that the gate closed.

A minute to breathe, and John ended up having to put his head in his hands. It felt like he'd been bathing in adrenaline, and realized how jumpy he felt, his eyes nearly crossing with the strain they'd been under. Delenn came to him, sitting down on his lap and putting her arms around his shoulders. John held her close, resting his head against hers, wrapping his arms around her tightly. "Thank you," she breathed, her lips against his jaw. John moved only to tell the ship to head for Centauri Prime; then he concentrated on holding her.

xxx

Most of the next three days they spent together in the cabin, watching the screens. Waiting. But nothing else showed up. They took turns at first going back to the sleeping berths, but after the first day it was easier to just sleep in the chair. Earlier this morning, Delenn had dragged the thin mattress off her bed down to the cabin, and had set it on the floor right behind the chairs. John turned to look at her sleeping, her hair in disarray, shadows under her eyes. He thought she looked thinner than usual, but it might have just been the effect of seeing her out of her formal robes, without the shoulder caps that made her so...majestic. Powerful. John reluctantly gave up his watch over her, and finished imputing the directives to the computer.

There was a gate coming up ahead, the last gate. The shuttle was far too small to generate its own jump point, but they didn't have near enough fuel to leave hyperspace at the next-nearest jump gate and finish the journey in regular space, not after the long burn in the Dilgar system.. There was only one way in, and John dreaded it.

He knelt beside Delenn, rubbing her arm gently. She was slow to wake, and he wondered if she'd have enough strength for what was to come. "We're almost to the gate. Are you ready?" She nodded, and he helped her stand. The little satchel she had packed was already stowed away in a compartment under one of the chairs; now it was time to stow Delenn. The best way to enter any system carrying something you didn't want anyone to find was to come in like a smuggler, and thankfully he was in the right ship for it. Delenn crawled into the space under the instrument panel. John tried to help her, but she was a flexible little thing, and before he could manage to get himself facing the right direction, she was already inside.

"Delenn," he said, putting a careful hand on her arm. He wanted to tell her that he'd keep her safe, that he'd die before he let anyone find her here, but he couldn't make himself say it. She wouldn't want him to lie to her. A quick nod, and he slid the panel back into place, hiding her.

John put his hand on the stick, cast up a silent prayer to no one in particular, and guided the shuttle toward the gate.

This whole thing had been fubar pretty much from the moment he'd first asked Delenn out to dinner, so he expected nothing different upon entering the Centauri system. Another Minbari warship ready and waiting, perhaps, or a diplomatic convoy drawn up, ready to escort the shuttle down to the planet's surface. At any moment, a voice would ring out over the shuttle's com system, demanding that he turn Delenn over. In times like these, John always felt himself almost split in two. A part of him was standing outside himself, watching, apprehensive, worried, fretful. The rest of him, free of that nuisance, would do what he needed to do and get through the situation. He felt like that now – drawn and coiled tight, yet relaxed, patient, responsive.

Nothing happened.

No voices on the speakers, no ships waiting, just open space covering most of the distance between the gate and Centauri Prime. There was a ship coming his way, but it was a big, lumbering ore refinery, probably heading to the distant comet cloud to resume mining operations; no threat there. The planet's air patrol was on its rounds, a dozen little ships at least twenty or thirty thousand klicks away, just bright swift-moving stars at this distance.

John knocked on the top of the panel, three quick raps. _So far, so good_. He didn't give Delenn the signal to come out, though; he wasn't ready to trust in anything just yet. The mandatory check-point was twenty-two degrees north of the equator, nearly on the other side of the planet from where he was. He set in a command to the flight computer to bring the shuttle down around the south pole, enough to aerobrake them to standard orbiting velocity by the time they came up the other side. It took the flight computer about twenty seconds to calculate the necessary angles, and he heard and felt the engines burn just about as long to bring them around and into position. After that, it was just a matter of keeping one hand near the auto-pilot shut-off, watching the displays, and waiting.

Not quite ninety minutes later, he pulled the shuttle in to the check-point, a station in geosynchronous orbit above Centauri Prime's third-largest city. There was an elevator down to the planet's surface, but it was an older system, really only suited to travelers and small cargoes. After presenting his falsified manifest and submitting to a cursory examination, he was given clearance to fly down to the surface.

He programmed in a single twenty-two minute orbit, then unscrewed the panel to let Delenn out. When the light hit her face, John felt his heart stop. Her skin was pale, almost waxy; her eyes were closed; he couldn't see that she was breathing at all. He had checked, he had checked half a dozen times – there was an air feed into that compartment, and a CO2 filter. John put out a shaky hand to her face; there was no response, and her head sagged to the side.

"Oh Jesus. Jesus." He wasn't aware that he spoke. No movement, no breathing; he put a finger to her throat, not breathing himself. No heartbeat.

John grabbed her, pulled her body out of the compartment. She was limp, her head lolling against his shoulder. _She's not cold, she's not cold, it's not too late_. He dropped her to the floor too quickly, and the sound her head made as it banged against the metal plate made him wince, but he couldn't worry about that now. He drew her chin up to make sure her airway was clear, and that he wasn't going to push air down into her stomach, and then he opened up her mouth. Before he could cover her mouth with his own, though, her eyes slid open, staring up at him unseeing.

John stared right back, one of his fingers still in her mouth. He wondered if it was some kind of random signal firing in her brain, a last violent pulse through the nervous system as everything shut down. He leaned forward to start CPR.

Delenn gasped in a sharp breath first, her hands coming up to bat him away. John watched the color return to her cheeks, put a hand on her chest and felt her heart beat under his palm, slowly speeding up until it felt nearly normal. "Delenn? Delenn?" He kept repeating her name over and over, one hand on her face, the other still pressed over her heart.

"John," she whispered, and he crushed his mouth down on hers. There was no coherent thought behind the kiss, just the need to feel her, to be close to her. For a few perfect seconds, she kissed him back, one of her hands stealing up to tangle in his hair. Then she pushed him away, leaning over to cough. Once she caught her breath, he watched her grab one of the chairs to pull herself to a sitting position. Still wanting her, he balled his hands up into fists to keep from reaching out for her again.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I thought you'd be okay in there, I checked, I'm sorry, Delenn."

"No, no. I slowed down my metabolic rate, let my heartbeat and respiration drop." She said it so calmly, as though people did that kind of thing every day. Her face was flushed, though, and he could see that she was trembling just a little. Had she ever done that before? Could that even be safe? "It was more comfortable that way. I didn't know how long I would be inside, or if we would be boarded. Likely they would suspect a smuggler's ship, and would scan with heat sensors." John nodded even as he wondered why she hadn't let him in on it. But he didn't want to ask her questions. He just wanted to hold her and kiss her again. She was staring at him, her lips soft and pink, and when he reached out for her hand she met him halfway. He drew her into his lap, and she came willingly. This time, though, she was the one to kiss him, light, tentative kisses. Her fingertips were brushing over his cheeks, his temples, his eyebrows, as though she were learning his face.

John licked her lower lip, gently, wanting to taste her but not wanting to scare her off. She opened her mouth for him, and for one glorious heartbeat the kiss was as deep and rich as anything he'd ever wanted. Then a loud, strident alarm rang out – one minute left in orbit. Delenn broke off the kiss but pressed her forehead against his. "I'm glad you're here" she whispered.

"Me too," he said, and he tried to kiss her again. Thankfully Delenn remembered where they were and what they were doing, and she stood, helping him up to his feet. Her face, tilted up to his, was bright and shining; she was so goddamned beautiful he thought he might lose his mind.

"Are you ready?" he asked, and she nodded. Then she bent to retrieve her little bag, while he sat down to bring the shuttle down to the surface. He could hear her doing something behind him. They hadn't really talked about the plan once they made it to the planet, though she had curtly told him two days ago that she would be able to blend in. He really wanted to turn around and see what she was doing, but decided to give her some privacy, just in case she was changing or something.

Centauri Prime was a very pretty planet, with lots of forests and golden plains, crystal-clear rivers and towering mountains. Villas dotted the landscape here and there, and the cities were clean and well-organized, laid out on grids as precise as if they'd been marked out with a ruler. John had picked out a small town about ten miles from their primary destination; he wanted to get an idea of the lay of the land first. It had been a long time since he'd been here - before the war, at any rate.

Delenn sat down in the chair beside him, and he could tell by the way her fingers gripped the arm rests that she was nervous. He looked at her – she was wearing a pretty robe, though it was bigger and looser than her usual choices. A scarf covered her head, though a tiny bit of her dark hair peeked out at the bottom. She turned to him, anxiety all over her face. There was something else, too, but he couldn't figure out what it was.

"Do they look all right?" she asked. John stared at her blankly. His first instinct was to check out her boobs, but that was (probably) not what she was asking. Her robe looked fine, the scarf looked fine. He was at a loss.

"Yes? I don't know. Do what look all right?" She pointed to her forehead. He looked. What the fuck was she talking about? And then he finally noticed.

She had drawn on eyebrows, probably with one of those girly makeup pencils. They were curved, thin, and quite pretty. He hadn't noticed before because they looked just right; what Delenn would look like if she were fully Human and not just half.

"I think you've got your answer." Delenn smiled, then looked at her lap. He turned away to finish landing the shuttle.

"I spent a few days researching how I could blend in," she said quietly. "A half-Minbari, half-Human is very recognizable, even to someone not hunting for me. I needed to cover up my bone crest, but that can be suspicious as well. But there is an Earth religion where the women cover their heads. Islam, yes? You cannot see the shape of my bone crest, can you?"

John checked. Maybe, if someone were really looking for it, they could just a bit, but for the most part she looked exactly like what she'd intended – a Human woman with a head covering, an observant Muslim. Centauri weren't usually very interested in anyone's beliefs or culture beside their own, but if they were questioned, the reasoning behind her disguise was sound.

"You look fine. No one will notice."

The town below was pretty as a picture, nestled at the foot of some mountains beside a small inland sea. It reminded him a bit of an Earth village on the Mediterranean, all whitewashed walls and colorful tile roofs. John brought the shuttle down at the modest little shipyard on the outskirts, flying over a field of what looked just like Earth cattle as he did so. The landing was easy as pie (the pilot inside took a moment to swagger and bow), and they sat there for a moment in silence.

Finally Delenn nodded as though answering a question spoken out loud. She put her hand on his arm. "Let's go." Then she was up, grabbing her bag from the compartment, and walking to the back of the shuttle. John followed, grabbing his own suitcase from his room. They left the shuttle, walking down the ramp, and then they stood on the surface of Centauri Prime. Delenn reached over and took his hand.


	6. Chapter 6

She would have liked to make it to the city before nightfall, but she was exhausted. Mentally more than physically, which was worse, she thought; she wanted to be completely alert when this began. So Delenn asked John to find them a place to stay. He was talking to a fisherman now, a few meters away, his naturally open and affable face making the Centauri trust him completely right off the bat. They were newlyweds, John told him, and on the spur of the moment had decided to come to Centauri Prime on their honeymoon. They hadn't done a lick of research. Where was a nice, quiet, tucked-away place to stay?

While the two men went over various options, Delenn just watched John. His kiss had been unexpected, surprising, and completely perfect. There was no longer any need to pray on it, to try and decide if it were the right path – it had felt so very right, and that was all the answer from the universe she needed. As tired as she was, she also wanted to stay the night in this little village because she wanted to spend time with John alone, without worrying about anything else. Besides that, a week spent constantly on edge had taken its toll.

"All right. Dalos says there's a really nice little bed and breakfast just about a half a mile from here. He's going to drive us up." John helped her to her feet, and offered her his arm. She took it gratefully. The drive was short; Dalos kept up a running monologue of the sights of the village (mostly houses and the Centauri domesticated livestock), happy to show off his home to strangers. Delenn let his voice fade away and rested her head on John's shoulder.

The inn was a few hundred meters up the mountain, tucked into a small valley there. One side had a wonderful view of the sea, the other of a rippling brook wending its way through the mountain valley. It was a small building, holding no more than a dozen rooms. The fisherman dropped them off, inviting them to join him for dinner at his home if they so chose; he would make them a fish stew, rich and hearty, with plenty of Brivari to follow it down. John thanked him graciously without ever committing them; the fish stew could be the most delicious ever made, but Delenn had no desire for anyone's company but John's.

She let him go inside to make the arrangements. There was a stone bench by the cliff's edge that she sat on, the seat warmed by the sun. Delenn closed her eyes and turned her face up into the sunlight, breathing the fresh, salty air, letting her mind rest. It had been a churning froth of turmoil and self-doubt for long enough that she had a hard time remembering being at peace; the coming days were like to be even worse. She needed a respite.

John joined her, putting an arm around her shoulders. "I got us a room facing the sea. Is that okay? One room? I figured since we're supposed to be newlyweds..."

"One room is perfect." She slid her arm around his waist and leaned against him. John kissed her hairline, so softly and tenderly that she couldn't help but sigh. "You have done so much for me."

"Hush." So she did.

xxx

It was a small room, but bigger than what they'd had on the shuttle, so right now it seemed fit for a king. Plain walls, the window hung with white sheer curtains; a single landscape painting; a wide, soft bed covered in a blue coverlet to match the sea outside. It didn't look anything like the ostentatious extravagance John was used to when it came to Centauri – he liked it much more. Delenn sat down in a chair in the corner, watching him quietly as he unpacked their bags and opened the window to let in some fresh air.

John took off his shoes and sat on the bed, leaning against the head board. He patted the bed beside him. Delenn took off her head scarf, unwinding it with a delicacy that he found incredibly attractive – though that was the case with almost anything she did these days – then sat down beside him. He took her hand.

"When we get back to Babylon 5, when all of this is over, I'd like to start seeing you."

She furrowed her brow at that, and a slow smile spread over her face. "Are you not seeing me now? Have you seen nothing _but_ me for the last week?"

"It's a Human expression. It means...I'd like to court you. Date you. Pursue you as a romantic partner. How do the Minbari put it?"

Her smile widened, and her eyes were definitely on his mouth. "_Shan'leth nai_, but the colloquial expression translated into English is 'to go through the rituals.' The process is much more complicated and involved than my understanding of Human courtship." Then she sighed, tracing his fingers with her own. "I have wanted you as well, but I did not think it would be appropriate."

John didn't quite know what to say to that. "Because I'm a Human. Minbari don't marry other species, do they?"

"No." The word hung in the air between them. He wanted to fill up the silence, to plead his case, but he bit his tongue to keep from what he knew would end up as babbling, and let her work out what she would say next. "John. It is difficult to explain to someone who is not Minbari."

"You don't have to explain. Whatever you want to do, I'll respect. I won't push you."

"I know. That is another thing that makes me want you." Another pause. He wanted to sneak a peek at her face, to try and figure out what she was thinking. But he wasn't going to make her feel self-conscious, not now when she was finally confiding in him. "When two Minbari become close, there is a specific and set path to be taken. Rituals, everything proceeding at a slow and careful pace. Each stopping point allows the two to decide whether they wish to continue."

"And you're not sure you want to? Continue on this path with me?"

"Stop trying to figure out what I'm going to say next, John. I want to continue. Very much so. But...I don't want to wait. It can take a year to proceed through the various rituals. It is a lengthy process. I want to skip all of it, right now." John let himself perk up – she wanted him now. That's what he wanted, too. They were on the same page after all. "I want to...be with you. Physically. But for a Minbari to do such a thing before formally joining with the other is dishonorable, for the individual and the clan."

"Ah." No wonder then that he'd kept getting so many mixed signals from her. She reminded him a little of a teenager who really wanted to make it with her boyfriend at prom, but was worried about what God might think if she did. He didn't really know what to say – he'd been the boyfriend who'd done his best to get every girl into the backseat.

"Things are different for me now, since my change," she said, her voice so quiet he could barely hear her. Now he did glance her way. Pink cheeks, fingers worrying with the bedspread – she was nervous, shy. He wanted to smother her in kisses. "I feel things differently. Attraction for Minbari is generally a mental thing, one soul drawn to another. To feel that attraction in my body, to feel unable to resist, is difficult for me to know how to deal with."

John leaned close and kissed her chastely on the cheek. "I'll sleep in the chair, or on the floor."

"No."

"Delenn, I respect your culture and your beliefs. And I know how hard it is to deal with your body's urges and hormones and all that. I don't want to inadvertently tempt you into doing something you're not ready to do." She opened her mouth to argue with him, but he cut her off. "Why don't you take a little nap? You look ready to drop. I'll figure out what route we'll take into the city." Reluctantly, she nodded. The need to kiss her was so strong that he had to get off the bed right that instant or he knew he'd give in. He heard more than saw her lie down on her side, her back to the window and the chair in the corner.

All he wanted to do was climb back into the bed, to make her feel better, to kiss her and hold her and make love to her until they fell asleep in each other's arms. Instead, he accessed the local data net and started doing some research.

xxx

She woke up foggy-headed with no idea where she was. The wall in front of her was blank, and she stared at it while her brain woke up a few seconds behind the rest of her. They were on Centauri Prime, staying at an inn in the mountains. Was it morning already?

Delenn tried to roll over, but at some point had become tangled up in the bedspread. She wondered if she had covered up in her sleep, or if John had done it for her. Finally untangling herself, she looked for him – he was asleep in the chair in the corner, head tilted against the wall in what looked like a very uncomfortable angle, his legs seeming to stretch all the way across the room. She wasn't sure, but the quality of the light coming in the window looked more like twilight than dawn.

There was a cool, almost cold, breeze coming in through the open window. Delenn went to it, looking out over the sea below. White sails broke up the smooth blue sheet here and there, and as she watched a bird fell out of the sky, coming back up a moment later with a wriggling fish in its talons. How long had it been since she'd been on a planet's surface, instead of in a ship or on a station? Too long, in truth. Just breathing air that was fresh and moving, and hadn't made a million trips through recyclers, was a novelty. She was happy to do nothing but just watch the ships sail across the sea, white waves break on the rocks below, the clouds move across the sky.

"Hey." She turned to see John smiling up at her. "Do you have any idea how pretty you look standing there?" Delenn shook her head, fighting off sudden, stupid tears. No one had called her pretty in years and years, maybe not since she'd been a child. John stood, and then slapped a hand to his neck. "Ow. Shit."

"You cannot sleep in that chair again." He groaned, in agreement she thought, and Delenn reached out to take his hand. She tugged until he stood behind her, and she maneuvered his arm to wrap around her waist. He obliged with the other as well, and rested his head on top of hers for only a moment before he drew back.

"That's not going to work. Your bone is poking me in the neck."

Delenn laughed under her breath, feeling light as air. "I wonder if anyone else has ever said that sentence." He laughed as well, then dropped his chin down to her shoulder.

They stood there, watching the sky darken to a deep indigo, the clouds turn from white to pink to purple. The ships sailed for home. "I'm starving," he finally said, nuzzling the side of her neck. "Do you want to go eat some fish stew?"

"No. I don't want to share you with anyone."

She could feel his smile against her neck. "We passed what looked like a restaurant on our way up here. Want to walk down, bring dinner back here?" She nodded, and he squeezed her tight.

There weren't any lights along the narrow mountain road, but the moon was rising in the twilight sky, full and glowing. It was enough light to make out the edges of the gravel road, the potholes here and there. The base of the mountain was still fairly steep, but the road switched back and forth at a shallow enough angle that the walk back wouldn't be too difficult. It was nice to walk, really walk – it felt like they'd been cooped up on that shuttle for a month. The air was just bracing enough to be refreshing without being too cold, and some kind of fragrant herb grew on the cliffs, scenting the air in such a way that Delenn wanted to eat it. She hadn't realized how hungry she was, too. As they walked, John's hand holding hers, she pretended for a moment that this was her life. She lived in a pretty blue and white room on the side of a mountain, and every morning she opened the window to look at the sea.

The restaurant looked small and homey from the outside, cheery candlelight flickering in the windows, but once inside, they saw that it had been built at the mouth of a cave. Timbers gave way to a stone roof, only roughly carved here and there to maintain the same height. At least fifty Centauri, mostly families, ate at long trestle tables, their conversations loud and boisterous and utterly unintelligible. A few faces turned their way, but they were all ruddy-cheeked and welcoming, and after a few moments no one paid much attention to them.

"I like this place, John." He smiled at her, and found a server who spoke enough English to take their order. While they waited for the meal to be cooked, they found a place to sit in the corner of the room. John drank a mug of some frothy Centauri ale. It met his approval, judging by the way he smacked his lips and made a silly noise.

"Do you want to try some? Shit, you can't. Wait, have you tried any alcohol since your change? You _are_ half-Human now."

Delenn cocked her head and narrowed her eyes at him. "I don't think that would be wise."

"You might just end up mildly homicidal instead of wildly homicidal."

"John."

"I like when you use your schoolteacher voice." He stole a kiss from her then, quick as can be, yet her heart still raced a little faster at the idea of kissing him in public, in front of strangers, as boldly as though they were already joined. He grinned at her, that wide toothy grin that was the first thing she loved about him, but then the grin turned into an exaggerated moue of pain as he put his hand back to his neck.

"I told you not to sleep in that chair," she said, feeling bold herself. She put her own hand there, pressing her fingers into his neck, rubbing the knot in the muscle. John's moan would have been horribly loud if the rest of the room had been quieter, but as it was, she didn't think anyone else could hear them.

Then he abruptly stood, and for a second she was sure she had done something wrong. Had he not just kissed her? But he only moved to sit on the ground in front of her, his head bowed forward. "Well, if you insist," he said with a put-upon sigh. Delenn's first reaction was to check the floor to make sure it was clean enough for him to sit on – in her admittedly limited experience, Human males sometimes did not think ahead to consider such mundane details. The tiles below were nearly spotless, though, and sure enough a Centauri youth with a mop was making his way around the room.

Delenn put her hands on John's neck, just feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips. She still felt some slight trepidation when it came to touching him; old habits were hard to break, she supposed. She didn't see any point in hanging on to any of those old habits. Not now. She rubbed his neck and shoulders as best she could, not knowing precisely how such a thing was done. There was some skill in it, as she had seen walking by practitioners massaging for pay in the Zocalo. She figured John would tell her if she did something wrong.

Delenn pushed down the collar of his shirt a little, remembering her study of his nearly-naked form on the shuttle. She leaned forward to speak into his ear. "Perhaps after we've eaten, back in the room, I could take your shirt off and rub your whole back." She intended to continue the massage, but John turned to look at her, his eyes dark, the candlelight playing over his face. For a split-second, she thought he was angry, but she realized it was desire she was seeing in his face, and for a moment they were alone in the room. The reason she was on the planet disappeared, whatever anxiety that had underlain everything since Anyenn had entered her quarters vanished – she was entirely present, thinking only of the man in front of her.

The moment passed, though, when a reedy young man with a fringe of hair wild even by Centauri standards brought over their food, already packaged up and in a sack. John paid him – well, it seemed, if the numerous bobs of the Centauri's head were any indication – and led Delenn to the door. He kept looking at her, a look that made her feel as though she were wearing nothing at all. Her heart beat a little faster, and her stomach roiled almost unpleasantly. He was going to do something to her when they made it back to the room. She could see it in his eyes.

He didn't wait till they made it back to the inn, though. Halfway up the switchback, John tugged her off the gravel road, through the scrubby growth to the side, behind a tall tree with rough bark. The sack of food was left on the ground, forgotten. Her back met the tree trunk as his lips met hers, insistent, demanding. _What happened to respecting my beliefs? _she might have asked, but her mouth was no longer her own. John had claimed it.

Delenn wondered if he might not claim the rest of her, right here against this tree. She knew the English word for such an action. _He could fuck me, right here_. Thinking the word was nearly as exciting as the way John was kissing her, his tongue pressing against hers, his hand at the side of her breast. Delenn moaned. She could feel his hardness against her, his hips rocking into her belly, and if he just lifted her up she could wrap her legs around his waist, and he would be _there_, right where she wanted him.

Instead he broke off the kiss, and for a few seconds they both concentrated on breathing again. Her scarf had fallen off her head, it was on the ground somewhere, why was she thinking about such a thing at a moment like this? John brought a hand to her face, cupping her cheek. Somehow that gesture was more possessive and intimate than his kiss had just been.

"I want you so much," he said, his voice impossibly low and rough. She could only nod, and he traced the contours of her mouth with his fingertips.

John kissed her again, slow, slow, and so deeply that she thought she might melt. "Are you mine?" he whispered against her lips, and she wondered that he felt the need to ask. She nodded, and then there was nothing but his kiss, his body warm against hers. They would share a bed tonight, and she would join with him, rituals and tradition and everything else be damned. Tomorrow morning she would wake up beside her mate; she smiled as he kissed her, and he smiled too.

The sound of a motor cut through the quiet night, and they paused, more out of simple curiosity than anything else. A car was coming up the gravel road. No, two cars. John moved them just a little, to keep the tree more squarely between themselves and the road. Delenn watched his face as he watched the road up ahead, and as his eyebrows drew together and the corners of his mouth turned down, a trickle of fear worked its way down her spine.

The cars stopped in front of the inn.

Delenn could do nothing but watch as a dozen Centauri emptied out, half heading inside the building, the others surrounding it. Although the walk up the switchback would have taken another ten minutes, they stood only a hundred meters below the inn, and half again as far away. She could hear the Centauri talking, even if she did not understand them.

"Dalos," John whispered, and Delenn saw him then, the Centauri who had been so kind, so generous, who had driven them up to the little inn and invited them back to his own home, to share his fish stew. He was talking with one of the perimeter guards, pointing up to the room facing the sea, the window with the pretty white curtains.

"Did he know?" she whispered back. "Did he know who we were when he dropped us off?"

"No. You slept for almost three hours. They would have come on us then." John picked up the bag of food from the ground, and her scarf, too. Then he took her hand and pulled her deeper into the thin woods that lined the road. The moonlight was bright enough that they could pick out a path, but hopefully would not give enough light that the Centauri above would be able to see them. They moved parallel to the road at first, but while the road had been made level, the land beyond sloped steeply. Delenn had to let go of John's hand to steady herself; her right foot was nearly six inches above her left, and she grabbed at trees and shrubs as she went.

They both kept looking up, toward the inn, now falling behind. The activity around it grew and grew; two more cars sped up the gravel road. They paused when one car unloaded five Minbari. The moonlight glinted off their bone crests, as though they were crowned with diamonds. Delenn felt her heart come to a stop. They talked to the Centauri outside the inn, though one walked into the night, in their direction, peering out. There was no way he could see them from this distance, but she still instinctively ducked down. After a minute the Minbari returned to the others, and they entered the inn. "Come on," John said, a hand on her arm. She let him lead her away. The muscles in her legs began to tighten and burn, and the ankle she'd fallen on when the shuttle's gravity systems had malfunctioned started to ache. Her mouth was dry.

The road was well behind them now, having looped back up to finish the climb to the inn. They paused, and John peered all around, getting the lay of the land.

"They will ask around, and learn that we were just at the restaurant," she said, catching her breath. "Did anyone see us leave? If they know we headed back up the mountain..."

"I don't know. We can't go back to the village. Let's try to make it to Arvenia." That had been their destination, an easy twenty minute drive for tomorrow. She didn't even want to think about how long it would take to reach on foot, in this terrain. "We can climb this slope, up to the valley. Follow the stream to a cleft in the mountain, then down the other side. The city's straight inland from there." Delenn could see the route in her head; they'd had a glimpse of the city as they'd flown down to land. Up high, it had looked close enough to touch. Just on the other side of the mountain, after all.

Another ten minutes clambering forward on the slope. Once John grabbed at a shrub as he lost his balance, and the roots pulled clean from the ground. He slid down a few meters, and Delenn had a sudden vision of him tumbling down, bones snapping, dead before he stopped falling. He caught himself on a rock, though, and the worst injury was a tender ankle and a scratch on his cheek. After that, they decided to climb.

Delenn had always found, even when she'd been a child, that intense physical exertion cleared the mind like nothing else. Her first year at temple as an acolyte had been a study in that truth. She remembered climbing the stairs to the Aerie, eight hundred steps hewn into the mountain face, narrow and slick with dew, her fingers so cold they were numb, unable to secure handholds as she ascended. Once at the top, she would pray for a solid hour, keeping time by the sundial in the floor, the birds above squawking and shrieking, sometimes even landing on her shoulders, demanding grain. By the time the hour was up, her muscles would be cold and stiff, and the descent was an even worse nightmare. She was always sure she would fall. Acolytes had in the past, usually to be found broken beyond repair. But Delenn had always had the most wonderful thoughts on such treks, her mind seeming to open up, all the dust and shadows cleared away. She would return to her dormitory full of ideas, epiphanies crowding against each other, seemingly insurmountable problems all easily solved.

The same was happening now. Climbing, grabbing onto branches and roots as she went, looking for handholds and a good path, her mind was racing, skipping from one conclusion to the next. Dalos had not known who they were when they had first landed. He had not known who they were when he brought them to the inn, and had not known for some time after that. But at some point, maybe while she was sleeping, maybe while they walked down to the restaurant, maybe even as late as when John was kissing her behind the tree, he had learned who they were, and had alerted the local authorities.

Who had told him? Who had known that she was on Centauri Prime? It was possible that the Grey Council had sent out a general alert, and that Dalos had nothing to do with it. It may have taken most of the day for word of their arrival at the checkpoint to trickle down to someone who was aware of the Empire's desire for her whereabouts. Maybe every major planet had a bulletin tacked up on the proverbial wall, with her description and image, and maybe John's, too. Maybe there were many different species on the lookout for a Human and a Minbari who looked like a Human traveling together.

But as Delenn climbed, she found it hard to believe that was the case. It was not in the nature of the Grey Council to expose their wishes in such a way. To confide in other species? Beneath them. To ask for a Centauri's help? Delenn could not see it. To broadcast galaxy-wide that they were looking for her and could not find her would be an admission of weakness. Her plan to come to Centauri Prime specifically had been known, and they had been lying in wait.

Why not capture her in orbit? Why give her the opportunity to go to ground? Whoever was here didn't have much power, couldn't convince the Emperor (or, more likely, his council and cronies) to set up a cordon around the whole planet. Her list of suspects grew smaller and smaller, until she was left with only one name. Someone who knew she was coming here, who could afford a sizable reward for any information, who would have to operate as a private citizen to keep the Centauri government out of it, and keep anyone from suspecting the Council itself.

Hallier.

The slope flattened out abruptly, and Delenn stumbled forward. John was there to help her up. In truth, she had forgotten he was there, her mind had been so focused on her thoughts. "Let's sit a minute," he said, and they found a flattish rock wide enough for the two of them. The inn was a good kilometer away, maybe more. It seemed the activity there had died down, as most of the lights were now off. John opened the sack and pulled out their food from the restaurant, something else she had forgotten about. Her stomach growled noisily as he handed her a container.

"Who knows when we'll eat again," she said, not much of a benediction on the meal, but the most honest one she could think of. Spiced meat, soft bread, chunks of white fish with herbs and tart, salty berries – Delenn didn't taste any of it. She knew wolfing down her food wasn't very attractive, but John was doing the same, so in that respect they were well-matched.

John was sopping up the juices in the bottom of the container with his bread when he looked up at her, wanting to ask a question but afraid of her answer. His face was so easy to read. "What is it?" she asked, finishing her own meal.

"Tell me about your friend, the one you're supposed to meet here."

So his thoughts had taken a similar bent. "Hallier joined the Council a few cycles after I did. A Worker, so never very influential – that has been a problem for a long time. But she was focused, diligent, and very moral. Although we were from different castes, we became friends almost immediately. For nearly five cycles, we were the only two women on the Council. This was not an example of any kind of sexism, as it might be on your world; it was simply the way things worked out at that time. At any rate, we were very close. I knew her better than anyone else on the Council, and I knew the rest of them very well." Try as she might, Delenn could not seem to make herself seriously consider that Hallier had tricked her into revealing herself on Centauri Prime, let alone that she would have gone along with anyone else on the Council who had voted for Anathema. Such a vote did not have to be unanimous – that she well knew.

"Someone knew you were coming to Centauri Prime."

"It could have been someone on Babylon 5. It could have been the Brakiri pirate whose ship we borrowed – Lennier told him he would return with Brivari. Another on the Council might have learned Hallier had traveled here, and guessed at the reason. It could have been anyone."

"And it might have been Hallier herself." Delenn turned away from him, kneeling beside the rock to find a place to hide the empty food containers. John was saying nothing she wasn't thinking herself, and yet she grew angry at him even still, for voicing her thoughts aloud.

"She would not have betrayed me." Delenn believed that. She had to.

"If she felt you were no longer Minbari, if she thought you had been totally corrupted, she wouldn't see it as a betrayal."

"Then what would you suggest, Captain?" she spat out, facing him again – he only smiled at her, a little sadly.

"You already vetoed my suggestion."

"That I should live out my days in Babylon 5's brig, kept like a bird in a cage?"

She knew even as she did it that she was doing her best to bait him, to make him angry. She wanted to fight, to yell and scream until she had no voice, to pound her fists into stone until her knuckles split and her blood spilled. John probably knew it, too, but he did not indulge her. He only stood and joined her, running a finger down her jaw.

"I don't want a bird in a cage, not when that bird is so beautiful flying free." Delenn did her best not to smile, but she was tired and worried and ached horribly. John laughed, putting his hands on her waist, pulling her close. "I'm not much of a poet," he admitted.

"No." They were laughing then, and Delenn threw her arms around his neck and hugged him as tightly as she could.

"Let's put as much distance between us and the inn as we can," he whispered, and even though she nodded, they just stood there for a few minutes, holding each other.

xxx

The dawn was cold and gray, the only indication of the sun a slightly brighter spot in that smooth dove sky. They were on the other side of the mountain, following the stream down. On this side, the stream looked to become a river, and it ran straight for Arvenia. Even though they hugged the woods to the left bank, John was still wary about continuing on under the light of day. "We don't know what resources they're willing to expend, if they're going to look for us from the air or not." Delenn didn't think that would be the case, but she was so bone-tired she knew she couldn't walk much further.

It wasn't a cave exactly, more of a depression in the mountain side, which was rapidly becoming a hill. There was enough cover for the two of them, if they lay closely, side by side. John found a few branches on the ground with leaves still attached; he dragged them over. Delenn climbed in first, lying down on ground soft with green moss and dead leaves. John arranged one of the branches, climbed in behind her, then levered the second branch into place. It wouldn't hold up to a close examination, but it would do for anything else.

John fitted his body against hers, his chest solid and warm against her back, cocooning her from the worst of the winds blowing down from the north. She covered one of his hands with her own, and he squeezed her tight.

It was not the bed she would have chosen for the two of them to share tonight, but she was happy for it nonetheless.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven: An Interlude**

In the Academy, they'd called it the Whatcha Got game. You started off with something small. A candy bar your mom had sent in her last care package, or a pack of smokes smuggled in on furlough. Then you found someone who wanted that something small, and had something they were willing to trade. "Whatcha got for the Reeses?" you might ask, and they'd go through the list. The game was to trade up, if at all possible. A couple bottles of Grape Madness might be tasty, but was roughly equivalent to the candy. A voucher for a week off latrines, or answers to Sergeant Baker's pop quiz the next day, those would be better. Then you took your voucher or your cheat sheet, and you traded it again. And again. And again, until you had something good enough to call the game completed.

There were two cadets a year older than John, Torres and Grdinovac, who had made Whatcha Got into an art form. Each stage of the game was witnessed and carefully noted, and they competed against each other in a variety of ways. They would agree on a goal and see who could reach it first; one time, Grdinavac had started with a pack of gum and ended with Major Grant's solid gold belt buckle in less than twenty-four hours. There was a finesse required, skill in making the trades, but what worked the best was knowing who had what, and what they might want for it.

John didn't know any of that. The Centauri in the marketplace were all aliens to him, literally as well as metaphorically. Worse, most of what he would have had to trade was back in their room in the inn. He had what was in his pockets. And, he realized, on his wrist. The watch was his granddad's, and the old man had given it to John after he'd graduated from the Academy.

John shoved it up under his sleeve. He'd wait, and hopefully he wouldn't need it. Instead, he started with the change from their dinner two nights before. Eighty-two Centauri crowns, a little more than twenty Earth bucks.

Time for a game of Whatcha Got.

xxx

Delenn washed her face and hands as best she could, but there was nothing she could do about her robes. Two days climbing up and over a mountain, even a relatively short little mountain as the ones Centauri Prime possessed, had wreaked a considerable amount of damage. The bottom was muddy a good hand-length above the hem, she had ripped the seam connecting one of the arms to the shoulder, and sticky sap had practically ruined the fabric. John had ventured into the markets in hopes of finding her something else to wear, but she wasn't hopeful. He only had around eighty crowns, barely enough to buy them another meal, let alone her a new wardrobe.

Truth be told, she'd rather have food at this point. The hunger pangs in her abdomen she could deal with. The lightheadedness, the fatigue, and the way she seemed unable to follow one thought with another troubled her far more.

Whether John bought food or clothes, though, in either event they would not be able to afford a room for the night, no matter how tiny and cheap and pest-ridden an accommodation they found. Delenn worried about spending another night out-of-doors. There was a tickle deep in her chest that she didn't like the feel of at all. So far she had been able to avoid coughing in John's presence, but she wasn't sure how much longer she would last. The universe save her should he discover she might be ill.

A branch broke fifty meters to her right. Delenn froze, crouching on a rock at the side of the river. One deep breath, and she slid a hand to the handle of the dagger, just there beside her.

A few more seconds of listening, and Delenn let out her breath and sat down on the rock, releasing her grip on the dagger. Someone was moving none too quietly through the undergrowth directly toward her, sending up a flurry of birds ahead of him. John, of course. He was in many ways a very talented man, but he was not a small man, nor particularly light of foot.

Neither of them had proved capable of mimicking bird song, so when she heard rocks clatter together around ten meters away, Delenn banged a small stone against the rock she sat on. John appeared from the trees thirty seconds later, and he carried three – no, _four_ – bulging bags as he came with a grin.

"What did you do?" she blurted. The first and really only reasonable explanation that came to her mind was that John had resorted to thievery. The last thing they needed were more people out there hunting them. But his face displayed no shame, no guilt - indeed, his grin grew even wider, and when he joined her on the rock his eyes gleamed so brightly Delenn found herself smiling helplessly in return.

"Everyone has something they want more than money." He handed her the first of the bags. "Though I warn you. In order to get what's in that sack for two crowns and a crate of Centauri oranges, I had to kiss the booth's owner. He'd always wanted to kiss a Human." Delenn stared and stared, not knowing where to start. John held up his hands in surrender. "Two seconds, no more than three, lips to lips, no tongue. You're still the only alien for me." She could wait no longer, and tore into the sack.

Three dresses were inside, lovely hand-dyed Centauri fashions. Delenn carefully pulled one out to examine it. Wearing this would help her blend in much easier, even with a scarf wrapped around her head. Just as she wondered whether the scarf she had with her would match at all, she found a separate panel of fabric pinned to the dress. John leaned close: "Do you know what new style is coming from the best of the court designers? Scarves, wraps, and veils."

Then he was taking the bag away from her and digging into another one. Food, he was pulling out food, and for a few glorious minutes everything else was forgotten. A few loaves of bread, salted fish, hard cheese, dried fruit – it all tasted wonderful. Delenn was positive she could actually feel the strength return to her limbs. After she'd torn through the first few bites, and she moved from ravenous to merely very hungry, she spared a moment to look at John. She thought he had lost some weight, though it looked good on him. Better than it did on her – the one glimpse she'd had of herself in the inn the day before, she had looked hollow-cheeked, her collarbone protruding a bit alarmingly. John's hair was tousled, his cheeks and jaw covered with a growth of whiskers – grayer than the hair on top of his head – and he was covered with dirt, yet he managed to look more handsome than ever. It wasn't fair. "Did no one ask about your appearance?" she asked. His clothes had fared better than her own, yet were still dirty and worn nonetheless.

"I told them I hitched a ride into town on a wagon carrying hides. Gave everyone a good laugh."

"How so?"

"Only Centauri kids hitchhike. It's expected, even encouraged, a way for youths to broaden their horizons. But once a kid becomes a man or a woman – there's no such thing as an adolescent when it comes to the Centauri – it's seen as foolish."

"And you wanted them to think of you in this way?"

"No, it's an idiom. It's like saying, 'you don't want to know how I got here.'"

"You know a lot about Centauri." Delenn had to admit, she was a bit impressed.

"My dad was stationed here almost three years when I was a kid, as the chief aide to Earth's primary diplomat to the Centauri. I came to visit him a lot. Believe it or not, I used to actually be able to speak Centauri. Not well, but enough to get by. I've forgotten nearly all of it. I never had a good ear for languages."

"And when you visited your father, were you young enough to steal rides on wagons?"

John grinned at her, and she decided it was best to not know any of the specifics of just what kinds of mischief he had gotten into as a child on Centauri Prime.

There were more treasures yet. New trousers and shirts for John, shoes for them both, makeup for her ("I didn't see a single woman without rouged cheeks and red lips, not a one. And you need new eyebrows, anyway."), a small over-the-shoulder bag to pack up what they didn't carry on their persons. He had even secured a small netlink; she didn't want to ask what "services" he'd had to provide to get that.

"Let's get moving. I booked us a room at a hotel close to the forum."

"John." She couldn't help it. It seemed as though he had worked some miracle. The only answer she received to her unspoken question was a shrug of his shoulders. Then she had to concentrate on struggling through the undergrowth in this last stretch of wooded, uninhabited countryside before finally reaching the city of Arvenia.

Delenn ducked behind a tree to change. It was an awkward operation, and she was very aware of John's presence just a meter away besides. How strange, that she had been so willing just the day before to lay herself bare before him, to join with him body and soul; now the thought of him catching a glimpse of her nakedness made her unreasonably shy. She pulled on the new dress as quickly as she could, only feeling better once she was able to tie the sash around her waist.

She came around the tree winding the new scarf around her head. John stood bare-chested, shirt dangling from one hand as he poked at a scratch on his side. Delenn did her best not to stare at the overall picture as she investigated the wound. It was shallow, though whatever had caused it had definitely broken the skin. A line of red started almost near the center of his chest and snaked around to his ribs, ending in a deeper jab a few inches below his armpit. "How did you do this?" she asked.

"That's the thing, I don't remember. Maybe when I fell when we were still under the inn?" Delenn nodded absently, running a finger along the path of the scratch, on the unbroken skin just below. Her cheeks were hot, and she was aware of a strange anxiety making knots in her stomach, the meal she'd eaten too hastily now feeling like a heavy lump. "It looks as though it will heal cleanly," she said, backing away. She stared at the ground as John pulled his shirt over his head.

They emerged near a set of docks on the river. A fisherman was tying up, and spied them coming out of the trees. His face was hard and inquisitive, but John only waved, making a show of tucking his shirt into his pants in front. The fisherman laughed so uproariously that he nearly fell into the water. John smiled at her, and she did her best to return it. Truthfully, she did not want everyone to believe they had been off in the woods fornicating like animals. _Not if we haven't been_, she thought, and that anxiety was back, making her sweat as though some horrible dread was looming just up ahead. But everything ahead looked safe and pastoral, and as they passed first through the markets where John had finagled all they could possibly need, Delenn watched as he received smiles, waves, and even warm embraces. "Rocky!" one Centauri shouted. "Come try this roasted meat! Bring your lovely wife along!" They could do nothing but accept, lest they risk offending the butcher.

"Rocky?" she asked in a low voice.

"I was The Rocket when I played baseball in high school. I don't know, it was the first thing that came to mind." Delenn could swear that he was blushing.

After they sampled the roasted meat, and had another sample of braised fish, and yet another of smoked sausage, they were finally able to make their escape, albeit with a promise to return the next day. The markets gave way to a small industrial neighborhood, surrounded by a ring of small apartments, though they were well-maintained. The apartments ceded ground to houses, then finally villas. Delenn became more and more aware of how agitated she was growing. Her palms were clammy, and she couldn't seem to stop rubbing them on her new dress. Every Centauri who passed them by seemed to be looking right at her, and she found herself unable to decide whether to meet their eyes or to look away. She knew she most likely looked skittish, perhaps even as though she was hiding something. Matters were not helped once they reached the forum. Now they saw not only Centauri, but other Humans, a few Drazi, even some Minbari. Arvenia was not a large city, but it was a commercial hub, housing several different intergalactic corporations. It should have been no surprise to see members of different species here, and was in fact the cover she'd been hoping for when she'd originally made the plans, yet Delenn still found herself groping for John's hand.

"The hotel's just up this road, behind the basilica." The road was close to proving her undoing, being quite steep and twisty, far more arduous a climb than the gravel mountain lane had been. It seemed every muscle in her body ached, and there was such a deep burn in her thighs that she had to grit her teeth against the pain. As stiff as she had been this morning, it would be twice as bad tomorrow.

As they approached the hotel, Delenn was seized with a sudden certainty that something horrible lurked just inside. It would be better to return to the woods and stay there. She stopped, and John turned to her, brow furrowed.

"What if they find us here?"

He kissed her, very gently. "You've sounded awful all day, and I heard you coughing once. You can't spend another night outside." So he had noticed after all. "Besides, I want to sleep with you in a real bed." His voice was light, and yet it still felt like a knife in her gut. That was what she was worried about. He would likely expect to be intimate with her tonight – after all, what now stood in their way? - and now she had plenty of time to think about it. As they continued walking, Delenn was very aware of the scratches and insect bites on her skin, the tangle of her hair, her sunburned nose.

John's tug on her hand surprised her. He pulled her away from the front doors of the hotel, an impressive four-story brick building with marble columns and a pediment. Instead, he led her around to a back alley, unlocking the door with a key he pulled out of his pocket. A moment of searching revealed a loose brick, and he tucked the key inside.

They slipped inside the hotel, taking the back stairs up to the third floor. John seemed easy and nonchalant, but Delenn could read the wary tension in the line of his back. He found their room, tapping away at the netlink until the door clicked open. Delenn just made it to the bed before her legs gave out, but she wasn't too far gone to keep an eye on John.

"You didn't rent this room, did you?"

"The housekeeper gave me the key and the code to get in."

"And what did you give her in return?" She tried to keep any hint of accusation out of her voice, since she as yet had no claim on him. Yet for some reason the sudden image of John with a beautiful Centauri woman popped into her mind. He _had_ been gone for a very long time, it seemed.

He sat beside her and rolled up one of his sleeves, revealing a bare arm. "My grandfather's watch," he said. "In return, she's going to keep this room for us for as long as we need it, and bring us food in the morning when she shows up for work."

Delenn hated herself in that moment. She was unworthy of such an act of sacrifice, and had no way to repay it. John's hand was on her face, the back of her head, and he was murmuring something to her, but she could not look at him. His hand slid up and down her back, and then he stood, going to the other side of the room. A few moments passed before she heard the sound of running water.

She felt the nervous tingle return to her stomach, but this time, it did not worry her so. She didn't know what tomorrow would bring. Considering all that had happened in the last two weeks, the many different ways her plans had been spoiled and upturned, it would not be a surprise if tomorrow ended up being her last day. Delenn decided that she did not want to die with regrets.

"Hot bath. Hurry up, because I'm next."

His voice was light, but Delenn knew there was some effort involved in making it so. She stood, and just a few minutes sitting had served to stiffen her up. She was aware and a bit embarrassed of the way she limped toward him, but saw that he was leaning against the wall, back no longer straight at all. She paused at the door to the lavatory and rested a hand on his chest. "There's no reason why you should have to wait." A moment for her words to sink in, and his eyes widened just a bit. Delenn couldn't help but smile. "Don't act so surprised. You would have ravaged me against that tree if you'd had the chance. And I think on the ship, as well."

She slid her hand up, resting one finger against his lips. His eyes were dark and mischievous, and she felt desire kindle low in her belly. "Maybe," he said lightly. "That doesn't mean you still didn't catch me off guard."

Delenn traced his lower lip. How different this was now that she knew what his kiss felt like, knowing that she would feel it again soon. "That's no good," she whispered. "I definitely want you on your guard." Pleased with the way he breathed in sharply, Delenn walked past him into the steam-filled room.

xxx

He had lit a candle, and it was the only source of light in the room. Delenn hadn't realized how much she loved those small, flickering flames until she had been without in a time when she'd desperately needed one. When he finished unwinding her scarf, he stood there for a moment, holding her face in his hands. He kissed her, and Delenn felt to ask the universe for anything more than this would be selfish. This was all she needed. This was perfect.

He kissed the tip of her nose, her forehead, her temple, and then, even though she could not feel it, she knew he kissed her bone crest. And just like that, whatever residual anxiety she still carried vanished. It seemed silly that she should ever have been worried – what was there to worry about?

John undressed her with reverent hands and eyes, sliding his fingertips along each new revealed section of skin. There was nothing sexual in this moment, not even when he gently cupped one of her breasts in his hand. Though she had told him nothing of it, he seemed to intuitively know what the _Shan'fal_ ritual entailed. She had to admit, she was glad no one from her clan was in the next room. This was their night, and theirs alone.

Now it was Delenn's turn to remove his clothing. As she unbuttoned his shirt, there was the briefest pang as she considered that she had not even watched his face while he slept, save for the minute or two on the smuggling ship. Remembering the events of that day, specifically when she returned to her own room, brought a smile to her face she couldn't quite hide.

"What?" he asked as she finished with his shirt and dropped it on the ground.

"I saw you naked once before. Or nearly naked." The look on his face was priceless, and Delenn laughed as she unfastened his trousers.

"When was this?"

"On the smuggling ship, on the second day." The trousers joined the shirt. Now he stood clad only in what she had seen before. _Shorts_. Delenn felt unreasonably proud of herself for finally remembering the word. "I came to apologize to you, but you were sleeping, only wearing these." She slid a finger just under the waistband. His skin was very warm.

"I don't remember that."

"I didn't wake you." She tugged his shorts off, though she kept her eyes on his face. He had given her the same courtesy when he'd finished undressing her. This time, though, she let her fingertips linger on his hips, tracing circles. "I returned to my room."

"And?"

"And you were sleeping, and of little help. I had to take matters into my own hands." His face then was as it had been when she'd offered to massage his back. Lustful, his eyes dark – he looked as though he wished to devour her. Delenn very much wished to be devoured. She leaned up on the tips of her toes to kiss his bottom lip, then whisper in his ear. "The water is getting cold." She licked his lips but evaded his kiss, stepping out of his arms and into the tub.

The water was far hotter than she expected, and she drew in a breath in a hiss. "No danger of that," John said, taking in the view. "Temp-regulated tub. This is a nice hotel." The heat was already beginning to soak into her bones, and she was afraid if he didn't hurry up and join her, she would fall asleep without him. But first, she would enjoy the view herself. She found overly-chiseled bodies unattractive; it was rather like looking at an anatomy diagram. John was just the right mixture of hardness and softness, though it was one particular hardness that was catching her eye.

Then he was climbing in behind her, hissing a bit himself. "Oh, God, that's good." He got himself situated, and his erection poked her in the back. The Delenn of even just ten minutes ago would probably have grown uncomfortable, or succumbed to another wave of that excruciating anxiety, or perhaps might have swooned with desire. This Delenn found herself laughing.

"So you find my penis amusing, do you?" he grumbled in her ear. Delenn nodded, giggles escaping her like bubbles surfacing in water. John wrapped his arms around her, and she turned her head to the side so he could rest his chin on top. "I don't want to poke your neck again," she told him. He hummed in response.

They soaked, and Delenn wondered if it would be too horrible to save the actual washing parts till tomorrow. But no, she planned to taste him later, and didn't want to encounter any dirty spots. Normally the cooling water would have served as a prod to hurry up, but their water stayed nice and hot. It was difficult to finally rouse herself to find a washcloth and soap, but she managed. She had always preferred showering to bathing when it came to actually washing her body, but with John's slick body against hers, she found it hard to complain.

She washed his hair while he absentmindedly dragged a washcloth up and down her back. If she moved forward a little bit she would be straddling him, but no, there were some things she did not want to do for the first time while in a tub. She kept her distance, even though that afforded him more opportunity to sneak peeks at her breasts. While she rinsed his hair, he gave up the pretense of washing her at all, and drew circles around her nipples with his fingers. When she moved on to scrubbing his front, he continued his play, rubbing his thumb against them. Delenn intentionally skipped over his groin, ignoring his harrumph.

"Turn around so I can wash your back," she ordered him.

"I'm not done with you." He kneaded her breasts, and Delenn knew they were sensitive, but she'd had no idea they were that sensitive. How many different ways of touching them did he know? Now he was flicking his index finger back and forth across the nipples, making them stiffen even more, and the sensation went straight to her loins.

"John. I want to be clean, and then I want to be dry, and then I want to be in bed." He frowned at her. Sometimes she didn't know if he was pretending to be a bit dim as part of some Human mating ritual, or if he really didn't understand her. "With you, John. I want to be in bed with you. I want to suck on parts of your body, and I want them to be clean when I do so." Now he understood her, and hit the button to drain the tub. He helped her stand, splashing water all over the floor. They turned on the shower at the same time, and then it was every man for himself. John had a head start, which she thought was unfair. He finished washing himself, eyes on hers the whole time, while Delenn tried to wash her hair as quickly as possible, even though it would probably tangle it even worse.

She was rinsing it out, head tipped back into the spray, her eyes closed, when John went to work with a washcloth over her skin. The slightly rough texture of the fabric felt good against the bites here and there, and though the scratches stung she knew that it was necessary for them to be cleaned. Before she knew what was happening, he dropped the washcloth and stuck a soapy hand between her legs. The feel of his fingers moving against her was so surprising that Delenn gasped so hard she nearly choked on the shower spray. He found her clitoris, rubbing around it without actually touching it.

"I want to suck on parts of your body," he said, his voice raspy. Delenn grabbed the wall for support. "I want them to be clean." His fingers pressed against her once, twice, and her hips rocked forward to meet the third time, that was all she needed, she could already see stars...but he pulled his fingers away.

"John," she gasped. "Please."

"I want to be in bed."

She stared at him as he pulled the shower head down, rinsing her off. There was a shadow of a smirk on his face. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to mount him and ride him as hard as she could. She settled for climbing out of the bath, albeit on shaky legs.

"I thought you wanted to be dry?" he asked as she marched right past the towels. She did want to be dry, but not as much as she wanted him to be inside of her, right this very second. Delenn climbed onto the bed and laid on her back, pulling her knees up, her legs spread wide. The cool air hitting her was almost too much, and she screwed her eyes shut and waited for John to join her.

A few too many seconds ticked by, and she looked for him. He was standing at the side of the bed, just looking at her. "John," she whined, any pride she might have once had long gone. "Please, please. Now." He climbed up beside her, leaning over her, and she grabbed for him – he only captured her hands and pinned them to the mattress above her head. She wanted to protest, but he kissed her hard. His tongue thrust into her mouth, and she could feel her pulse beat in an answering rhythm between her legs. His fingertips traced soft lines up and down her palms.

He tore his mouth away and moved to her neck. "John, I want you. Make love to me."

"I am." He moved down her body, releasing her hands. Delenn knew that she could move quickly, flip him to his back and take him inside before he could resist, but then his mouth closed around a nipple and she was lost. His tongue repeated all his fingers had done before, and then he suckled her until she thought she might scream. Just as she felt she could endure no more, he released her and kissed his way to the other side, to repeat the process.

Too much, it was all too much. Delenn knew that she was making sounds, tossing her head back and forth, clawing at his arms and shoulders, repeating his name, begging him. He kissed his way down to her navel, shifted so he was more squarely between her legs, and then started kissing a pathway lower.

"No," she choked out.

His head popped up, both his hands on her thighs, pushing them farther apart. "No?" To his credit, he stopped completely, waiting for her answer. She was so aroused it was almost painful, and she was afraid of his touch. Her nerves were on fire, and it seemed she could hardly breathe. Delenn turned her head to the side and threw an arm over her face. "Don't stop, don't stop," she whispered as a tear slipped down her cheek.

John kissed the insides of her thighs, occasionally nipping at the skin so gently it was almost another kiss. Wherever his mouth wasn't, his hands were, caressing and stroking, relaxing her. Just as she became convinced that he'd only ever meant to pay attentions to her legs, and had pulled back from the brink once again, he gently parted her outer lips, spreading her open. Her hips bucked and she cried out, bottom lip caught between her teeth as she waited for what would happen next.

Nothing happened.

"John," she moaned, drawing his name out to three or four syllables. Still he waited. Was there a word she was supposed to say, something to allow him to continue? "Yes, John, yes, _please_, all right. John." She knew she was babbling, but she didn't care. She just wanted this to _end_, before she shattered into a million pieces.

"Look at me," he ordered. She shook her head. Her heart was beating so hard she worried it might break her ribs. How could she possibly look at him, see his face _there_, watch him touch her and kiss her and oh, she couldn't, she simply couldn't. "Delenn. Look at me. It's okay. I want to see you."

Slowly, she lifted her head, propping herself up on her elbows. John was crouched at the foot of the bed, perched between her legs, gazing up at her with such love that it was all she could do to keep from crying. A moment just looking, of recognizing that it was the two of them together, of affirming what brought them here, and then he dipped his head and kissed her gently. Another soft kiss, and another. Delenn rested a hand on the top of his head, stroking his hair. "John," she whispered. His eyes darted up to hers once more, and this time she read the twinkle in them quickly enough to brace herself as he licked her, one long, slow lick from bottom to top, and she gave up on looking. Back her head went, and the hand that wasn't on his head clutched hard at the sheets.

She had enough time to think _John's tongue, his mouth, down there..._ before she was swept away. The orgasm had been a long time coming, and nearly hurt with its intensity. Delenn lost track of herself, white-hot lightning shorting everything out, sparks behind her eyes. When she came down, she realized she had a handful of John's hair in a death grip, and had managed to bite her tongue.

"I'm sorry," she said, then realized she hadn't said it in English, so she repeated herself. Then she cracked open her eyes to look at John. He was staring at her with a mixture of amazement and arousal, and a slow smile spread over his face.

"Wow."

"That's one way of putting it." Delenn put out her arms for him, and this time he didn't evade her or deny her request. She tasted herself on his lips. His hardness pressed against her thigh, insistent, and she felt so empty, needing him to fill her up. She reached for him, and she ignored the voice that told her that he was too long and too large to fit inside, it would hurt, and she especially ignored the voice that still whispered, quietly but still heard, that this was wrong, that he wasn't her kind, that she was a wicked and rebellious creature who deserved her punishment.

She reached for him, and guided him inside.

"Oh, Delenn." He stayed right where he was, his forehead against hers, their chests flush against each other. It did hurt, but it also felt wonderful. It hurt more as he pushed inside another half-inch, but at the same time it was perfect. John began to move, slow, careful thrusts that opened her up a little wider each time, and the pain lessened some. Delenn was glad of the pain – because of it, she knew this was real. The sharp pinch each time he thrust forward cut against the exquisite pleasure, making it better. Then John angled his hips differently, catching her clitoris with his pelvic bone as he moved, and it was incredible.

It could have been horrible, and it still would have been wonderful, because it was John. He kissed her and stroked her hair, he smiled and moaned, and all the while, his eyes never left hers. "You feel so good," he murmured. She ran a hand down his back, and even though he was in the middle of making love to her, she still felt bold as she slid her fingers over his buttocks, finally feeling that skin. She traced along the crease between his bottom and his thigh, and for whatever reason, that was the straw that broke the camel's back, as the Humans put it. His thrusts became more erratic, he buried his head against her shoulder, and then she felt his penis spasm inside, filling her with warmth, as he cried out his release.

Delenn held him, loving the feel of his weight atop her, not wanting this moment to end. But it did, and he tried to move away. "Stay, stay right here," she said, and he did. They kissed, perfect, perfect kisses, and he shifted enough to slide a hand between them, and rub her just right. This orgasm was better, the sharp peaks rounded off, everything deeper and richer, and she could still feel him inside. He kissed away the tears on her cheeks.

Later, they lay on their sides, facing each other. Delenn ran her fingers over his face, wanting to memorize every single line. "I love you," she whispered. Nothing she had ever said had been so true.

He smiled. He didn't need to say it back – she already knew.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight: **_**Ra'faleth**_

Babylon 5 was under attack. Hordes poured out of the jump gate, ships beyond count, a million black specks and each one carried death. John was in C and C, shouting out orders, but everyone there just laughed at him and went about their business. "Goddamnit, get me a firing solution!" he bellowed. Corwin and Ivanova just giggled behind their hands, the eyes turned his way cruel and mocking. The attack wings were no better. No one was forming up. Instead, they just cavorted this way and that, doing tricks.

He was just going to have to fly himself.

John ran through the corridors, quickly becoming lost in the maze. Left, right, left, right, no matter which way he turned, he saw only blank walls. There were rooms behind them, he knew, he could hear voices from behind the bulkheads, chattering in alien gibberish. John pounded on the walls, demanding entrance, but was again ignored. And now something was coming up the hallway behind him, they'd been boarded, who knew what it was, he couldn't run anymore, he reached for his gun but the holster was empty, the Minbari were aboard, they were coming for him, he was Starkiller, after all, and they'd been saving up something really special all these years, they were behind the bulkheads, they were all around, it wouldn't be long now, it wouldn't be long at all.

John turned the corner, and Delenn was waiting for him.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked with a coy smile, putting a hand on his chest. Her robes were cut low in the front, the neckline slashed nearly to her navel, revealing most of her breasts. She guided his hand to them now, letting him stroke the soft flesh.

"The station..." he said, though he didn't know why. The station was fine. It was empty, as a matter of fact, completely empty, except for the two of them. John lowered his head to her breasts, pushing the rest of the fabric aside, revealing taut, swollen nipples. He sucked on them eagerly, as Delenn held his head securely down, her fingernails digging into his scalp.

"You're filthy," she said. He nodded; no point in denying it. "A filthy, dirty Human. An animal." Yes, yes, he was all those things and more. "A hairy, disgusting animal," she purred, and then she bit his ear. John felt himself harden, his cock stiffening so quickly that it burst open his trousers, and they fell to the floor forgotten. He was so hard, he had to touch himself, but Delenn grabbed his wrist, sharp nails digging into his skin, and forced his hand away.

"Is that what you do late at night? Do you touch that horrible thing and think of me? As though I'd let you put it inside me." Even now, she had a hand on the back of his head, keeping him still, rubbing a nipple over his lips. He opened his mouth to take it, and she slapped him. Then she shoved him away.

"I don't understand," he said. Even now she stood in front of him, tits hanging out of her robes, and they were so beautiful, she was so beautiful. He was an animal, yes, but why would she let him touch her and then tell him she would never let him touch her? His cock hurt, his balls hurt, he just wanted someone to touch him – it could be her, it could be him, it didn't matter. Delenn grabbed his arm and spun him around, shoving him forward into the wall. It was surprisingly soft, and he sank into it.

"Oh, John," she said, and she ran her hands down his bare back, and he bucked his hips forward when she reached his ass. Fine, he would fuck the wall. It was so soft under his body, and her hands were on his ass, rubbing and squeezing, dear God had he ever been so hard in his life?

John woke up, rocking into the mattress beneath him, his groin one delicious and awful ache. He could hear Delenn behind him, her breath coming in quick, sharp gasps that she tried to stifle. She slowly drew a finger down the crack of his ass, all the way down, and her fingers probed forward just below his anus to rub the skin there, lower to his balls, her other hand massaging and kneading.

"Jesus," he choked out. If he was aroused all to hell then so was she. It sounded like she was running a marathon back there, the way she was breathing. Suddenly her lips were on his ass, kissing one buttock, licking the skin first tentatively, then with greater and greater pressure. Her mouth closed and she sucked, and John began to fuck the bed in earnest. "Jesus _Christ_," he moaned. As far as he knew, she hadn't even touched his cock yet.

Slowly, her breath now sounding like a high keen on each inhale, she spread open his cheeks, thumbs rubbing to either side of his anus. If she'd had a strap-on or a dildo or anything, he'd let her fuck him right now, he was so turned on. She gently pressed one finger against the opening there, then very, very carefully worked the tip inside. John felt his balls tighten up even more and knew the end was near, and he certainly didn't intend to finish this by coming all over the sheets. He finally turned to look at her. She was an absolute vision, hair tousled and loose around her shoulders, breasts high and perfect, one hand on his ass and the other between her own legs.

John surged toward her, and they didn't so much kiss as just shove their tongues together. He was going to last about three thrusts, but God if they wouldn't be good ones. He pushed her down to her hands and knees, and someday when they had time he was going to pay just as much attention to her ass, it was a lovely, lovely ass, but right now he needed to be inside her or he was going to die. He entered her in one long thrust, and she screamed.

He made it to six.

He regained just enough composure and use of his limbs to not collapse on top of her. He didn't know if she'd come or not, not that it really mattered in his decision-making process. He flipped her over onto her back and buried his head between her legs. Truth be told, John would not have guessed her to be so vocal. "John, John, please, oh, oh, please, yes, there, John," she moaned and screeched, and every now and then she'd throw in some Minbari word or phrase he guessed were curses. He didn't usually go for chatter, it always sounded fake and porny to his ears, but he was loving it from Delenn. Then her hands were fisting in his hair and her shoulders came off the bed, and he bore down and sucked till his jaw hurt.

After, he rested his head on her thigh and watched her chest rise and fall as she breathed. "So tell me about this time you watched me sleep in just my boxers." A flush started somewhere between her breasts and spread upward.

"You were on your stomach, and I just..." He found it delightfully endearing that she could be so shy when it came to talking about this sort of thing when she'd been fingering his ass not ten minutes before. "I just wanted to touch you. When I woke up, just now, you were lying the same way. And this time, I could touch you."

"Does this mean we get to recreate one of my fantasies now?" He expected a laugh, for her to pull him up for a kiss; instead, she grew quiet. "Delenn?"

"We have other things we must do today." He knew the tone in her voice. It was the tone that said it was time to stop playing and get to work. He crawled up and kissed her anyway, trying to tell her through the kiss that everything would be okay, that whatever happened he would be there. Maybe she heard it, because she smiled at him.

"I love you," he said, and then they got ready to leave.

xxx

They walked hand in hand down to the forum. Centauri were rushing here and there in a veritable frenzy, and one with his head buried in a reader nearly ran right into Delenn. No apologies, just a scowl and a baring of sharp teeth. At least no one else seemed to notice them otherwise. They were just a couple taking a morning stroll, perhaps a bit unusual in not being Centauri, but that happened. John let himself breathe freely for a few minutes.

Just west of the forum was a big stone amphitheater. He paid two crowns to the fat guard at the front gate for entrance, one each for him and Delenn. When no shows or events were being put on, the wide stone risers were a popular place for lunch, for students to study, for lovers to meet. There were four other groups here now, clustered here and there, but a quick check revealed none to be Minbari.

They found a seat on the back riser, under an awning that provided welcome shade against the already warm and sunny day. Better still, they could see the main entrance as well as the smaller staff entrances by the stage, along with seven of the eight emergency exits. If and when Hallier came to join them, they would hopefully see her before she spotted them. Just in case.

_Speed didn't really exist in hyperspace. Of course, neither did they, if you wanted to get technical about it. Nonetheless, John dropped the old delta-v on the Brakiri smuggling ship, wanting to conserve as much fuel as he could. Delenn sat beside him, a reader forgotten in her lap. He didn't know which books she'd brought with her, and was a little curious, but the time for casual chit-chat was in the past. They were on their second day of watching the screens after the Minbari warship scare, and he would have liked nothing more than to take her to the back and screw her silly, and in at least one way the constant tension would be alleviated, at least for a few minutes, if that's exactly what he did. But it wouldn't be right, he knew that. So he sat and watched and waited._

"_We traveled to Centauri Prime together, a year after she became Satai." Delenn's voice startled him; he didn't think she'd spoken at all that day. "The Emperor wished to forge a stronger alliance with the Minbari, something we would have liked but only on our terms, which we knew to be unlikely. Still, it was decided that we should at least make the attempt._

"_The Centauri court feted us with all their usual decorum, which is to say none at all. An extravagant river barge took us from city to city on the main continent, ending at the capitol a full three weeks after our arrival. Nine cities in all, with feasts and plays and parties planned in each, and it would have been seen as a dreadful insult not to attend each and every single one. On our return back to the _Valen'tha, _I slept for nearly a full Minbari day, almost twenty standard hours."_

_She paused then, and he wondered if despite all her typical Minbari reserve she hadn't enjoyed herself just a little, being catered to, wined and dined; it almost sounded like a triumph. And indeed, he thought he saw a tinge of fond remembrance on her face._

"_When I sent my message to Hallier, I told her to meet me in eight days where an octopus had grabbed her wrist and squeezed. I knew that any attempt I made at sending a message in code would fail, as any code can be broken. I could only appeal to a memory, one that hopefully she had shared with no one else. I also could only hope that she even remembered the incident to which I referred. I was afraid to be more specific. Arvenia was the third or fourth city on our tour, and at a banquet at the amphitheater there, the live octopus on her plate flung out a tentacle and managed to grab her. She reacted, may have let out a small noise. It didn't hurt, of course, and honestly was of little import, but for whatever reason, it struck the Centauri at our table as being most hilarious. They laughed and laughed, and pantomimed it over and over, staggering about with their octopi clutched in their hands, tentacles wriggling wildly. After awhile we ended up laughing, too. Finally the main dishes were cleared away, along with the rest of the octopi._

"_They were staging a show for us, not the first of the tour and far from the last. This one was a tragedy, a story of the great god of the sea. He fell in love with a daughter of the moon, and every day they surged toward each other, but could never quite meet."_

"_The tides," John murmured. _

"_Yes. Hallier and I had been informed prior to the opening of the show that the story of the sea god and the moon maiden was one of the most poignant and touching of all the stories in Centauri legend, and that the dramatization boasted some of the finest actors in the quadrant. We were even brought a basket of handkerchiefs in preparation._

"_The lights dimmed, the theater quieted, and the play began. The set was beautiful, one of the most beautiful I've ever seen. The actress playing the daughter of the moon was a revelation. I will admit, I grew teary-eyed at her lament. But then..."_

"_The sea god," John said, having an idea where this story was going._

"_The sea god. Sometimes he takes the form of the two-headed Centauri dolphin. Other times he has no form at all, but manifests himself through numerous small creatures, a figure built of fish and crab, sharks and seaweed. But for this production, the great god of the sea took the shape of a mighty octopus."_

_John laughed, and for a minute or two, he forgot to watch the screens._

"_By this point, word must have spread beyond our group. The theater erupted, and nothing could be heard but gales of laughter. I believe one Centauri actually passed out from laughing so hard he forgot to breathe. The poor actors tried to soldier on, but their cause was lost."_

_Delenn smiled, and she ran her fingers over her own wrist. He didn't think her words were meant for him at all. "There were three circles in a line, from the suckers. Like a bracelet."_

There was no show in the amphitheater today, and certainly no feast. It was just more waiting, although it was of course much nicer being outside in the fresh air. Delenn seemed far more serene than she had been since they'd left Babylon 5, though their activities the night before might have contributed, as well. John tightened the arm he had around her waist, pulling her a little closer. He saw a ghost of a smile flit across her face.

"You okay?"

She gave a little more thought to the question than was necessary, and anyone who was okay wouldn't need to do that. Still, she answered with a bit of a shrug. "I'm better. I just want it to be over, one way or the other."

"Not one way or the other. Just one way."

"I know."

After thirty minutes had passed, and John had finished his inventory of everyone present, he decided to relax a little bit, and spend some time replaying everything they'd done the night before as well as this morning. When that hour was up, he started counting the risers in the amphitheater. Seventy-two. They were divided into six sections. Four hundred thirty-two. He looked up and down their section, trying to guess how many people could sit comfortably. Maybe fifteen to his side, but only five or so to Delenn's. He rounded down to twenty, feeling he'd maybe stretched his math skills to the limit, as far as doing multiplication in his head. Four hundred thirty-two by twenty would be around eight thousand six hundred. That would be a big crowd of Centauri laughing at you, if you were an actor portraying the god of the sea.

He moseyed over to the nearest exit. Sure enough, there was a sign listing total capacity. John stared at it, sure at first he'd translated the Centauri digits wrong. Then he rejoined Delenn.

"This place seats twenty-five thousand Centauri?"

She made a face. "It was dreadful, really. They were two, sometimes three deep on the risers. We were in that box there." She pointed to one of two enclosed boxes on either side of the center aisle, about ten risers from the stage. They were open-air boxes, but chest-high walls would have kept the riff-raff from getting too close. "I felt like I was in a boat, sailing atop a sea of Centauri."

She didn't seem to want to talk much, so he left her to it. By now the expectation that her friend would join them shortly had passed, and John was pretty much just plain bored. If he'd felt more up to speed, he might have walked the risers, up and down, but he was still pretty sore from the hike. Damn, why hadn't he thought of getting a book or a game or something?

He braided Delenn's hair. He grabbed up the pebbles around his seat and saw how far he could throw them. He tested the acoustics of the stage. (When he spoke in a normal tone of voice Delenn could hear him but not understand him, not until he cupped his hands around his mouth.) He talked to some Centauri kids apparently skipping school, who told him he could get free bread after sunset at a bakery further up the road from their hotel. He unbraided Delenn's hair and rebraided it into three braids. He traded the scallops from their lunch to the fat guard who'd taken their two crowns, and in return got some kind of sticky-sweet pastry, two tickets to a show, and a Centauri skin mag he assured the guard he didn't want, but which the guard kept pressing into his hands with a grin and a wink at Delenn. (Turned out, Centauri women wore more than just the hair on their heads in a ponytail. John carefully put the magazine aside.)

He waited.

If only they'd been able to wait in the hotel room. Then he could have just fucked Delenn all day. That would have been a great way to pass the time.

"I'm sorry," she said as they returned to their room. She carried her free roll, still not having taken a single bite.

"For what?"

"For having to sit there all day. I was sure..." She trailed off, sighing. "Maybe she waited for us the three days we were delayed, and gave up feeling just as I do now."

"Don't say that. You asked her to meet you here because you thought she cared enough about you to try and save your life. Do you still believe that she does?"

Only a brief pause. "Yes."

"Then she would wait for you. And we'll wait for her."

They ate at the little table in the room. Delenn took slow and methodical bites, chewing and chewing. John now recognized this as the way she ate when she had no appetite, and was eating only to fill her stomach, in what was almost a mechanical exercise.

"We will have to find you an occupation for tomorrow," she said. "You nearly drove me mad today."

"What are you talking about?" Delenn just looked at him. "It was fine. I was just waiting with you."

"John, I thought your head was about to implode."

"Fine. I'll take a book tomorrow."

But tomorrow came and went with no Hallier. John finished his book in the afternoon, and then stared at his hands until sunset, fighting the urge to stand, to pace, to do _something_. He didn't want to irritate Delenn, upset her anymore than she already was. Outwardly she appeared perfectly calm, gazing toward the stage, her posture straight, her hands resting gently in her lap. John saw her occasionally worry at her lower lip, though, and her eyes darted to the entrance to their right, more and more often as the day wore on.

Back in the hotel room, she stood with her arms hanging limp at her sides, and the face she turned his way was covered by a shadow like a caul. "What now?"

John took her hands. "Now we make love, and tomorrow we'll go back and we'll wait again."

xxx

John was flat on his back beneath her, his hands on her hips, but he wasn't pushing her, didn't urge her to take up any particular speed or rhythm. He just held her, sometimes running a hand up to touch her breast, sometimes around to stroke her bottom. His eyes never left hers, not even when she began to move faster, not even when his breath started to come in quick bursts, not even when his pleasure took him over and he spurted warm inside her.

But she couldn't find that pleasure herself, no matter how she moved. John rubbed her with his fingers while he kissed her breasts; when that did not work, he used his mouth on her, pushing his tongue up inside, sucking on the bundle of nerves, licking until he had to stop and take a break. Delenn pushed him away and went into the lavatory. When she heard him try to follow, she locked the door.

"Delenn? Look, it's okay. It doesn't have to be about coming and nothing else. I can still make you feel good." His voice was muffled through the door, but Delenn could still hear the worry in it. "I can brush your hair, or rub your feet. Or I can just hold you." Worry, Delenn was tired of his worry, she had more than enough of her own. But the longer she stayed in here, the worse he would get, so she made herself open the door.

"Hey." She let him pull her close, and this was all the comfort and pleasure she needed. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"For what? I am the one who is faulty."

He pulled back to look at her. "What? No. It happens. It happens to everyone." She wasn't sure she fully believed that, but it was still good to hear.

"Just hold me, John." He nodded, and took her back to the bed, wrapping his arms around her tightly, so tightly she couldn't move. Delenn forced herself to stay awake as long as she could, trying to memorize this moment and every sensation, but eventually sleep claimed her.

xxx

The maid was true to her word, and had brought them food every day. Today she knocked on their door with a basket filled with fruit, a loaf of hard bread, some kind of spicy vegetable paste, and, of course, plenty of fish. "What did you do with his watch?" Delenn asked the girl.

"To my father," she answered, in broken but understandable English. "He own Earth watch the once, but job is lost and there is no money, so he sell it. Now he most happy to have new one." So happy, in fact, that the girl's eyes filled with tears, and she hugged John tightly before she ran off.

They walked to the amphitheater for the third time, and, Delenn vowed to herself, the last time. She thought about the chain of events that had brought the two of them to this planet, to this city, that had led John to need to do whatever he could to keep them afloat. If any of those things had been different, that pretty girl would never have had the opportunity to give her father something that meant a great deal to both of them. _Could all of this have been worth it, just for that?_ She tried to tell herself that it was, but she didn't really feel it.

There were bills and notices tacked up everywhere, even some advertisements painted directly on the buildings. The previous two days, they had seen city workers taking the notices down and painting over the graffiti. Today they saw the sheet of paper while it was still up.

HAVE YOU SEEN THESE TOURISTS?

Delenn translated the Centauri text out loud, though she thought John was able to follow the basic meaning well enough. "'Two Human tourists are believed to be visiting this city. An urgent message from home is waiting for them, but their families have been unable to make contact. A reward is offered for any information leading to these tourists.' Take it down, John, right now." There was a physical description of the two of them above the contact information; she was described as having "a bone growth on her head likely to be covered," and she wondered if her scarf would make her stand out even more.

"That was smart," John said, stuffing the paper in his pocket. "If we were advertised as being in trouble, even dangerous, we'd be likely to have Centauri offer to take us in, as a way to thumb their nose at the government."

John paid for their entrance to the amphitheater. Did the large guard look at her more closely than before? If Hallier didn't meet them today, they would have to move on, come up with a new plan. It would be folly to remain in the city.

John sat patiently beside her for nearly an hour, reading the notice over and over again. Then he started bouncing one leg up and down, and fiddling with his fingernails, and shifting his weight back and forth and side to side. Delenn patted his shoulder. "Just go. Go walk around, I don't mind." She watched him pace the perimeter, stopping to chat for a moment with two Centauri having what looked like a business lunch. Even though she was at least a hundred meters away, she could see his face light up as they spoke. He was so warm, so congenial. She felt as though all she did was pull him down. Even now, she would like to go join him, there was no reason why she should just sit here all day, but she felt too heavy. It would require far too much effort just to stand, let alone walk all that way.

He walked up one aisle and down the next, stopping to peer inside the royal boxes in the center. They were called that, even though no emperor had sat in this theater in at least one hundred years, or so her guides had told her on that evening long ago, when she had listened to the lament of the daughter of the moon.

"Delenn!" She jumped when John called her name. Even though the royal boxes were locked, he had managed to climb into the left one, and was gesturing for her to join him. When she got there, he helped her get over the barrier, mostly by dragging her up. She was glad the theater was nearly empty; she knew she'd look most undignified.

Someone was yelling. She turned, and saw the entrance guard huffing down their way, having to stop every few meters to pull up his belt. "Get out! Get out!" he yelled, those perhaps being the only words he knew in English. The rest were Centauri curses. John grabbed her arm and tugged her to the front. There was a shape carved into the stone there, but before she could get more than a glimpse, the guard finally showed up, breathing so hard that Delenn feared he might collapse.

"Get out," he managed between puffs. "Out." He knew who they were, he would call for back-up now. It was all over. Delenn sighed in resignation, but John only grinned at the guard and pointed to himself, then to Delenn. Then he rocked his hips back and forth into the air, then pointed to Delenn again. Then John gestured to the whole box, and smiled widely.

The guard laughed uproariously. "Ohoho! Oh-ho oh-ho. Hohohohoho!" John waved him away, and the guard puffed his way back up to his post, but not before granting Delenn another lascivious wink. She felt her cheeks burning, and wanted to crawl inside a hole somewhere and die. "Every time someone looks at us, I wish you wouldn't pretend all we do is copulate in public places," she complained, not even able to feel any relief.

"I'm sorry," he laughed, dropping a kiss on her temple. "Delenn, look." They went back to the shape carved into the stone. An open circle, with curved lines coming out from the bottom. There were Minbari symbols carved underneath, and Delenn put a hand to her throat. "I don't know about you," John said, "but that kinda looks like an octopus."

"I've been so stupid." She sat down, thinking of nearly three days wasted, and wanted to cry. John knelt in front of her, hands on her knees.

"What are you talking about?"

"I told her to meet me where the octopus grabbed her hand. That didn't happen here." She gestured to the whole theater. "It happened _here_. Right in this box."

Delenn leaned forward and traced her fingers over the Minbari symbols carved into the stone beneath the octopus. They weren't words but the old cuneiform, the sort of thing you only saw on ancient scrolls. The Council often used them as a reminder of their past, and the legacy they were oath-bound to honor and protect. It would be unlikely that anyone else could read them, if they even knew what they were.

"The lighthouse. Dawn." Delenn grabbed John's hand. "That's where she's waiting."

xxx

The lighthouse was downriver, rejoining the sea they'd left four days ago. If he'd only known, he could have skipped climbing down the fucking mountain. Rather than wait until dawn, Delenn decided to head there now. "If she's still planet-side, she is likely monitoring the lighthouse, if she's not there already." She was almost feverish now, grabbing the few odds and ends they'd managed to accumulate, packing in a rush.

"I still think we should scout it." He sat on the edge of the tub, watching her sweep toiletries into the bag, her face bright and shining. She whipped around to face him, exultant.

"John, if she were harboring some plot against me, she would not have bothered to add another layer of secrecy to our meeting. She would have fallen upon us with whatever strength she'd brought with her right at the theater." Her hands clutched at him, and he could see that she was trying to will him to agree. "This only proves that she means me no harm. Everything will be fine!"

He'd traded for a lot more than a few changes of clothes and some fish, that first day in the market. Delenn had been overjoyed with what he'd brought back, and so he'd left it at that. John waited for her to leave the bathroom before he grabbed the black market PPG stuck up in the pipe under the sink. The hotel room was nice, and the food a bonus, but _this_ was what he traded his granddad's watch for. Into his left pocket it went.

John spent some cash on a train ride to the sea, but not enough cash for a private car. They sat opposite an old Centauri married couple who bickered at each other the entire time. Delenn was too keyed up to hold and cuddle, so John put his head back and tried to rest his eyes.

He didn't know why or how he knew, but he knew they were walking into a trap.

xxx

The dead of night on Centauri Prime was hardly dark. They were not a species to relish quiet, peaceful evenings, or to retire early. As they walked from the train station down to the sea, along narrow, twisting roads and through crowded back-alley warrens, there were lights strung overhead haphazardly, lanterns blazing in every window, calls and cries and laughter filling the air, Centauri of all ages running here and there. It was a wonder any of them could ever sleep.

John was in full military mode, his eyes ceaselessly scanning everything around them, one hand either at her elbow or the small of her back, the other in his pocket, likely holding the gun he didn't think she knew he had. She wasn't sure the point of his subterfuge, save that he wanted to spare her any more worry. Delenn was hopeful, yes, but she was not stupid. Anyenn's dagger was carefully stowed in the bodice of her dress.

They saw the lighthouse long before they came to it. The beacon at the top was a real flame, the light amplified by mirrors. She felt as though she were being led home. Delenn let John worry about their immediate surroundings; she watched the flame. Sooner than she expected, they came to the promontory upon which the lighthouse stood. The wind whipped off the sea, seasoning the air with a salty tang. Delenn stopped for a moment and turned her face up into it, breathed it in, and dared to whisper a prayer to the universe. _There's so much left for me to do. Please, don't let this be the end_.

The crowds and the noise had been left behind, and they climbed a short staircase to the lighthouse's door to the sound of waves crashing. John squeezed her fingers and opened the door. Inside was a single room, spanning the full size of the structure. Delenn could see an elderly Centauri nursing a drink beside a wood fire burning in a stove. He turned a dark face their way, liquor dribbling down onto his shirt.

"They're waiting for you upstairs." Delenn nodded, trying to ignore the way his words set her heart to pounding. There was a staircase that circled the outer wall of the lighthouse, a bit uneven, no railing. The last she saw of the Centauri was his face turned up their way, the firelight gleaming coldly in his eyes, before he went back to his drink.

A heavy oaken door at the top blocked their progress. It swung open with an ear-splitting shriek; there was no chance of sneaking up on anyone in the upper room. John stepped in first, PPG out and ready. Delenn rested her fingertips between his shoulder blades, and she felt certain she could feel his whole body vibrate, as though a current ran through it. He looked back at her, face unreadable, but she somehow knew that he'd like nothing more than for the two of them to walk right back down the stairs, out of the lighthouse, and back to their safe, warm little hotel room.

Delenn stepped inside.

The fire burned in a cradle lofted three meters or so off the floor, mirrors slowly spinning around the flames. A cluster of chairs around a low table commanded the spectacular view of the sea below. Cold drinks sat on a platter on the table. Delenn could see the condensation on the glasses.

Hallier stood with a smile.

Delenn had last seen her only a few months ago, yet it seemed ages. Her friend's face seemed tighter and more drawn than she remembered, and there were new carvings in her bone crest. Sharp ones, the peak at the center jagged and unfinished. Delenn found herself staring at it.

"Delenn. You finally made it. I've been so worried about you." Hallier was bowing, hands held in a high triangle, and Delenn shook herself. Those were the same warm eyes she'd known for many cycles, the same mouth that looked as though it might smile and laugh at any time. Delenn bowed herself, and then went forward to embrace her.

"Thank you for coming."

"How could I not? Please, sit." Hallier led her to the table, sliding one of the drinks her way.

"This is John Sheridan." John seemed content to stand right where he was, so Delenn did not bother asking him to join them. Hallier had never been very fond of Humans. Like many Minbari, she was still suspicious of the circumstances that led to the end of the war.

"Captain," she said in a haughty tone. Then, to Delenn: "Is he your bodyguard?"

"He is my mate." It lasted for a second, no more, and immediately after Delenn couldn't even be sure she really saw it – a spasm of sorts crossed Hallier's face, a contortion that took Delenn aback. But then Hallier was smiling, not warmly but at least politely, and gesturing to an empty chair.

"If that's the case, then you must join us." A beat, and John sat down, hands on his knees. Delenn should have been relaxed, should have felt happy and hopeful. Her heart was pounding, her throat was tight, and there was a funny taste at the back of her throat. She watched Hallier's eyes slide away for just the barest of moments, to the far corner.

They were not alone.

"You've been in the city for three days now. Why did you not come to the lighthouse before now?" Hallier drank from her own glass, and gestured again to Delenn's.

"You've known we were here? Why didn't you meet us at the amphitheater, then?"

"There are others here, in search of you. Unfortunately, I did not come secretly enough. My presence here is known. If I had returned to the theater, I might have led them right to you."

John's voice was a shock. Delenn had not expected him to join in the discussion. "So rather than meeting in a wide-open public place, in the heart of the city, surrounded by thousands of Centauri, you decided to meet here, at the end of a choke point, in a deserted lighthouse? 'Cause if the other Minbari know you're here, they're probably watching this place, and they probably saw Delenn stroll right up inside." He tried to stare Hallier down, his eyes cold, but she only laughed.

"Captain, you think like a Human, not a Minbari. That certainly saved your life once. Do not presume to think that a similar gambit will save Delenn."

They didn't have time for this. "Hallier, who voted against me? Can we convince enough of them to change their minds?"

Hallier looked at her, then reached out a tentative hand to her head. Surprise in her eyes as her fingers brushed against Delenn's hair. "It is softer than I would have thought. What is it like, no longer being a Minbari?"

Something cold lanced through Delenn's heart. She did not think she imagined the faint sound of a shoe scuffing against the floor somewhere to her right. "I am still Minbari, Hallier."

"Of course."

"Who voted against me? We must hurry, if we have any hope of success."

Hallier shook her head, patted Delenn's hand in an exaggerated show of pity. "The vote was not remotely close. There will be no persuading anyone to change their minds." Then she took up Delenn's glass, and pressed it into her hand. "I can see how difficult the last several days have been. You are tired, worn out. It is a struggle just to stand each morning. Here, have a drink."

John stood, eyes on the glass behind. He walked over, ducking his head a little as the mirror spun past. "Someone is coming." Delenn stood herself, turning to look. Three little cars were driving down the promontory road, heading right for the lighthouse. She had a feeling she knew who was inside.

"They're coming for you," Hallier said. She circled around to face Delenn, her voice low, gentle. "Will you let them take you? Will you submit meekly? Or will you drink?"

Delenn looked down into the glass she held. A cool yellow-green liquid with a faint milky scent - _saneth_ juice, her favorite. She wondered what poison was mixed inside, and how quickly it would kill her. She glanced up at John, who waited patiently. A number of emotions were warring on his face – love, resignation, anger – but he said nothing to her. He would allow her to make whatever choice she wished without trying to influence her one way or the other. She loved him for it.

Delenn threw the drink down to the stone floor. The glass shattered, and the liquid spread out into a puddle. "Did you call the vote," she asked Hallier, "or did someone else?"

"I called it. When you were summoned, I believed you would be declared _Ra'faleth_ then and there. But they only stripped you of your title and duties and let you go. I called the vote, but no one joined with me. They all retained shreds of affection for you, could not contemplate ordering the execution of one of their own."

"You had affection for me once."

"I loved you more than any of them!" The persuasive, almost hypnotic calm in Hallier's voice vanished. She grabbed Delenn's arm with no small amount of desperation. "I would have done anything for you! But the woman I loved no longer exists."

"No," Delenn agreed. "No, she doesn't."

She drew the dagger from her dress.

Over the next two minutes, Delenn heard many things going on all around her – shouts, punches, bodies hitting unyielding surfaces. She smelled the acrid tang of PPG fire, the rising coppery scent of blood. But she had eyes only for Hallier.

Her former friend shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I tried to offer you honor and tradition. Once Anyenn had ended your life, you would have been brought home to Minbar. You would have been prayed over, your body cleansed. Your clan would have agreed that your spirit would return, needing to make the journey again. You would have known peace! I wanted you to have the chance to be Minbari again."

Delenn didn't answer. She just held the dagger out, moving toward Hallier, pressing her back against the wall. "This was my choice, Hallier. My choice."

"You made the wrong choice." Before Delenn could react, Hallier grabbed the edge of the mirror as it spun in its slow circuit just behind her. She twisted it, shining the light directly in Delenn's face, blinding her. Delenn raised the dagger, taking a step back, but she was too late. Hallier knocked her down, and the back of her head met the stone floor with a crack. The world closed down to a pinprick of light, a muffled shriek. She felt as though she was moving through thick fog, dense and suffocating.

Someone was calling her name, but she couldn't tell who. Sleep was doing its best to claim her, snagging thorny fingers into her brain, dulling her senses. Delenn fought against it, and made herself open her eyes, made herself move. Her fingers tightened; the dagger was still in her hand. She was so heavy, fighting against the drag of twenty or thirty standard gravities, but still Delenn got to her knees. There was something dark on the floor, and she stared at it without comprehension for five seconds before she realized it was blood. _My blood?_ She felt no pain, only a sick and agonizing ache from the back of her head and neck. Then she saw that the blood wasn't pooled, but was instead smeared along the floor. The smear led around the base of the great fire and out of her sight.

Delenn crawled, following its path.

She slid in the blood, felt it soak into her dress. The stones of the floor pressing into her knuckles hurt, but she would not let go of the dagger. Now she could understand John's words as he shouted, on the other side of the room. "Drop it, right now! Drop it!" A challenge was snarled out in the language of the Workers. _Death first._ Delenn heard the crack of the PPG firing as John obliged.

She crawled another meter and found Hallier. Her friend was sitting with her back to the big oil-filled drum, hands pressed to her stomach. Now the blood was pooling, spreading in a big sticky puddle under her; Hallier's arms were red up to the elbow. "You've killed me," she said weakly when she saw Delenn, her eyes half-lidded against pain and blood loss. There was no hatred in them, though, just grief. The scarf had fallen from Delenn's head long ago, so she sat beside Hallier and pressed her skirts against her abdomen. The fabric soaked through almost immediately, and she increased the pressure. "What are you doing?" Hallier asked in a whisper. There was a single blood drop on her bottom lip. "Why should you try to save me?"

Footsteps. John stood a few meters away, gun hanging at his side. There was blood on his brow, the much brighter red of Human blood, and his shirt was torn but he looked otherwise unhurt. He said nothing – he would leave this up to her. She kissed Hallier's forehead.

"You shouldn't speak. Try to conserve your energy." Hallier coughed in response, a fine spray of blood hitting Delenn's cheek as she did. Then she heard noises coming from below, at the base of the lighthouse. Pounding, shouts, and the sound of many feet running up the inner stairs. Hallier laughed, a thick, wet sound. Her eyes rolled back in her head before they managed to focus on Delenn again.

"The last of my Workers are coming for you now, the ones your Human pet didn't already murder. They won't offer you a quick death, by blade or by poison." Her fingers twitched, and Delenn saw that she was trying to point to Anyenn's dagger on the floor beside them both. "Finish it now, Delenn, for all of us. Or if you're too much a coward, your _mate_ can do it."

"No," John said. His voice seemed to strike her right in the heart, flooding her with strength. "No one's using that dagger again, and anyone who tries to come through that door gets to deal with me." As if on cue, those inside the lighthouse finished their ascent and started banging loudly on the heavy oaken door.

"The door will not hold them for long," Hallier said. Her voice was no louder than a whisper, and her lips were nearly blue. Delenn felt a current of fear run through her. Hadn't she asked John to promise to kill her in anticipation of just such a circumstance? The fear seemed to dissipate, and John voiced her own question.

"If they're with you, then why is the door barred against them?" All the answer she needed was written on Hallier's face – sudden disappointment, yes, but also something that looked curiously like relief. Then a familiar voice cut through the din, yelling through the door. Familiar, yes, but so incongruous that Delenn could only stare at John in shock, seeing the same emotion in his raised brows.

"Captain Sheridan? Ambassador Delenn? It would be much easier if you opened the door for us, yes? I'm not as strong as I used to be," Londo Mollari called out.


	9. Chapter 9

**Nine: The Journey Home**

The Centauri nurse held the light in front of her eyes, first one then the other. "Good. Now follow it back and forth without moving your head." Delenn obliged. She found she was becoming quite sick of being examined by nurses. This was the third occasion in two weeks. If she never had her blood pressure or temperature taken again, she would die content. "Any pain?"

"Of course there is, I fell and hit my head," she said, knowing she was being unnecessarily short with the poor man just trying to do his job, yet she didn't particularly care. She felt more than heard John chuckle beside her.

"All right," the nurse said, unfazed. "Nausea?"

"No."

"A mild concussion. Stay awake for the next four to six hours. If the pain increases-"

Delenn cut him off. "Or I grow nauseated or my vision becomes altered, see a physician. Yes, I know." The nurse packed up his things then looked to John, not turning to leave until John had nodded. There were still half a dozen Centauri and Minbari in the lighthouse, taking care of the corpses John had left upstairs. There were five of them, and she couldn't believe that all John had to show for the fight were two small bandages on his forehead. She wished she could have seen it; he must have been magnificent.

He was smiling at her now, just looking at her without trying to hide it. "What?" she asked, unable to keep from smiling back.

"I told you a Human skull was plenty strong enough."

"If I were still completely Minbari, the fall would not have hurt at all," she groused. "I need a kiss." He gave her one, holding her so carefully and tenderly. She heard those still in the building come down the stairs with the last of the dead, and they could not help but see them locked in an embrace on their way out, but Delenn could not bring herself to care.

Some time later, Londo returned from wherever he'd gone to, bearing beverages. He handed John a glass half full of an amber liquid. "Whiskey? It cost me an arm and both legs, I'll have you know."

"Thank God," John said, and he tipped the glass back and drank half of it down in one long swallow. Delenn watched his throat appreciatively.

"And for you, Delenn, some nice hot tea, though I think you also could use a stiff drink." Delenn resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him and instead lost herself for a moment in the warmth of the tea's vapors wafting against her face, the slightly-bitter heat sliding down her throat.

"Why are you here, Londo?" John asked.

"Why am I on my own home world? Captain, really."

"And you just happened to show up at this lighthouse with some Religious caste Minbari?"

"Ah, you have me there." Londo drank deeply from his own glass, smacked his lips, and took a moment to stick a poker into the fire, rekindling the flames. They were in for a story.

"Commander Ivanova had everyone convinced that you were stuck in your quarters with some kind of disgusting Human infection, Captain. The description of your symptoms was quite..._explosive_." Here Londo made a gesture that caused Delenn to wince, even though she knew that John had not been ill at all, of course. "And we all saw Mr. Lennier make many trips a day to the brig, where carefully-leaked rumors had placed you, Delenn. As far as I know, most everyone back at Babylon 5 believes that you two are still there.

"One night, very late, I was quite rudely roused from sleep – and some very pleasant dreams involving a very beautiful woman, mind you – by Mr. Garibaldi. I was practically marched up to Blue Sector, where Ivanova had hidden away those Religious caste Minbari before the rest of the station found out they were on board. They had been looking for you, Delenn. Apparently they almost had you, in the Dilgar system – what were you doing there, by the way?"

"It doesn't matter," John gritted out. "Why were they looking for Delenn?"

"Word had reached your Grey Council that one of their own had gone rogue. Not you, though of course you did, too – the Council should rethink its standards perhaps, hmm? This rogue had sent assassins after you, leading them to believe their cause was sanctioned and therefore completely honorable. You had evaded them, but now they feared you would flee right to the rogue herself.

"And now you were on your way to Centauri Prime. Would I join them, and convince you to trust them? Well, how could I say no?" Londo smiled that almost-feral grin of his, looking quite pleased with himself. _As well he should be_, Delenn thought. She now owed him a significant debt, and she had no doubt that the day would soon come when she would have to repay it.

"Were you with them at the inn?" John asked, finishing off his drink.

"Yes, I kept saying to them, 'Sheridan will go right over the mountain. He is Human, and Humans are completely irrational.' But they insisted on searching along the sea road, and we missed you again." Delenn smiled. She was glad that they had been missed, if she were honest with herself. She would not have traded those three nights in the hotel with John for anything.

"We could not find you in Arvenia," Londo went on, "Perhaps you had journeyed on? So we continued our search, sending out bulletins, hoping someone would spot you. And someone did."

"Who?" Delenn asked, not knowing why she felt so betrayed. Had it been the pretty maid? Perhaps one of the students studying at the amphitheater, or one of the many fishers and merchants with whom John had traded.

"A very fat guard. He said you came every day to the theater and just sat, doing nothing. Though he did mention that he once caught you, hmm, how do the Humans put it? In a fragrant diction? How the way one says words can smell good and what that has to do with fornication, I do not know." She didn't think she'd ever seen Londo so amused. If he did not shut his mouth soon, she would shut it for him. Perhaps he saw that on both their faces, because he hastily cleared his throat and continued.

"From there, it was easier to track you down and we followed your trail here. Though by that point, you scarcely needed our help any longer. I must say, Delenn, I had no idea you were such a skilled fighter, and so ruthless." Londo beamed at her approvingly, missing the way she swallowed hard at his words. John did not, though, and the arm around her waist tightened. She only wished she felt more comfort from the gesture.

xxx

The Minbari warship that had nearly caught them in the Dilgar system, having carried a message promising sanctuary with absolutely no deception, now met Londo's shuttle in orbit. The Minbari dead had already been loaded, and waited in a lonely row deep in an auxiliary hold for their return to Minbar. Delenn did not yet know if their bodies would be buried, to slowly give back their atoms and molecules to the soil, for the specks of their spirits that remained to re-enter the cycle of life on the planet, to one day be reborn – the fate that Hallier had wished to secure for her by giving her a ceremonial death, one that would let her rejoin the life stream of her people. Or they might be deemed too heretical to return, traitors whose bodies should be left to float in space, or be burned, so that their treachery might be cleanly excised.

As she and John boarded the warship, Delenn thought she understood Hallier's fear. After she went through the Chrysalis, she was literally no longer Minbari – not truly, not entirely. It was very possible that she might have been named a traitor to the Empire, to be cut out and excluded in this life and all that came thereafter. In that case, better to be declared Anathema. From that, at least, she could be reclaimed.

The inner airlock door finally cycled open. A young Minbari male with the relatively smooth bone crest of the Religious caste was waiting for them, eyes cast respectfully downward. Delenn grabbed John's arm for support, her eyes filling with tears.

"Delenn?" he asked, looking back and forth between them.

"John," she started, and her voice cracked a bit. She swallowed and started over. "John, this is Salenn of Mir. My cousin." His face seemed to stay as flat and formal as ever, but there was no mistaking the warmth in his eyes. He was much taller than she was now; the last time she had seen him, she had needed to look down into his eyes.

"Pleased to meet you," John said, not understanding what it meant that Salenn was here. "Do you serve aboard this ship?" It was a ship design with which she was unfamiliar, and she did not know where Salenn was leading them.

"No." The barest tight-lipped smile at that. "When the Grey Council learned what Hallier had done, a representative was sent to us, Delenn's clan. Did we wish vengeance upon her? Would we absent ourselves from the decision and let the universe decide? Or would we confirm that Hallier had seen the truth of things, and lend our support to her decision?" Salenn turned them down a narrow corridor, with doors set in the walls nearly every meter.

"And what did you decide?" John asked. In answer, Salenn stopped in front of one of the doors. "Here is your room," he told them, and bowed to each in turn before he left. No other answer was necessary.

They entered a room not much bigger than those on the Brakiri smuggling ship. One slanted bed, wide enough for two; a night table; candles; a small lavatory. Minbari did not generally put much store in dividing up spaces for the individual – that they had a private room at all, and would not be sleeping in a common room with everyone else – was a minor miracle.

Delenn didn't realize she was crying until John brushed one of the tears away. She hugged him tight, needing the feel of his arms around her, needing his support as the meaning of Salenn's words hit her. For two weeks she had believed herself hated and reviled by all. No doubt there were still many Minbari who would not accept her, who were happy to see her cast out of the Council – that would never change. But her clan, her family, had not forsaken her. She would have to defend her choice of John as a mate to the Elders, but she would deal with that when the day inevitably came, and not a minute sooner.

She tipped her head back to smile at him. When confronted, she would simply tell the Elders to look at him. His whiskers had grown out, and were close to being a full beard; if he were to shave the sides, he would look like many of the wisest Minbari, including her dear Dukhat. He was brave, and gallant, and so very noble – anyone who looked at him could not fail to see that.

"How's your head feel?"

"Like it's stuffed full of clouds and wrapped in thick fog." He kissed the center of her forehead, and then, after a moment's thought, the corner of her eye, and then her temple, her cheek, her jaw. "Now," she said, working her fingers under his shirt, "what could we possibly do to make sure I stayed awake for the next two hours?"

Delenn thought there was nothing she'd seen in the whole universe more beautiful than his smile.

xxx

John slept, his face turned her way. Delenn watched him as his eyes moved beneath closed lids, watched his chest slowly rise and fall, watched him shift and sigh. She waited for the revelation, to see something new – she slowly realized that _was_ the revelation. John wore his true face at all times. She had seen it from the first day she'd known him.

She had carefully slipped out of his arms nearly an hour before, and now just as carefully slipped out of bed. Someone, perhaps Salenn, had placed a few traditional Minbari robes in the closet. She slipped into one now.

Ships were never silent, and Minbari warships, even when they were not at war, were no exception. Still, she only passed a few people on her way through the ship, each bowing his or her head respectfully her way. They had finally found her, these people sent to save her from an unjust death, from something no better than murder. No wonder she saw a few smiles, though she found it difficult to return them.

First she went to the auxiliary hold, where five narrow steel coffins rested in a row. They had gone to Centauri Prime with Hallier, to help carry out what they thought was the righteous judgment of the Council. They had only been doing their duty, and for that they were dead. Delenn rested a hand on each coffin and said a prayer. "I'm sorry," she said at the door as she left. Weak words that changed nothing, but they were all she had.

The second errand was more difficult, and she nearly turned back once. But it needed to be done, and better here than on the station, or even back on Minbar. "She wants no visitors," the physician told her.

"Hallier attempted to end my life through deception. Her actions were dishonorable. I have the right of confrontation."

The physician glanced up sharply. "She is seriously injured, and in some pain." The woman set her jaw. "Satai Hallier is under my care."

"Do you deny me my right?"

In the end, the physician could not, though her disapproval was more than evident. Delenn was led through the medical bay to the enclosed rooms at the back. They were all empty save one, which boasted not one but three guards outside. Warriors, who parted to allow Delenn entrance with nary a word nor a glance. She would not be disturbed, no matter what they heard. She wasn't sure if she was happy about that or not.

Hallier had been resting, but her eyes opened the moment Delenn entered. A beat as they stared at each other, and then Hallier smiled.

"So you've come for confrontation. I thought when you did not finish me off in the lighthouse that maybe you were too weak, too much a coward, and I was very surprised. But now I see that you did not want your Human to see you as you really are. Does he know that you once ordered the complete annihilation of his species? I wonder if he would be quite so infatuated with you if he found out that you were responsible for the deaths of so many of those he cared about."

Delenn closed her eyes and waited for her heart to stop racing. "You will not provoke me to anger." What separated her from Hallier? Only that when Delenn had cast her vote, she had not been alone. It was only tradition and custom that validated her cry for vengeance, that now threatened to ruin Hallier completely.

Delenn took Anyenn's dagger from her sleeve and opened her eyes. She saw fear on Hallier's face, but also courage and determination. She would hold her head high and accept whatever fate was chosen for her.

"When you put this blade in the hands of an assassin under false pretenses, you not only betrayed me, you betrayed thousands of years of our people's faith, our most sacred beliefs."

"Spare me your piety. Remind me again how you waited for the Council to formally approve your transformation."

Delenn accepted the rebuke, knowing that it was her transformation that lay at the heart of all this.

"I have hair on my head now, yes. My body temperature is higher. There are different hormones, and my reproductive system has changed. Even my taste buds are slightly different. And if I took this dagger right now and cut off my arm, my body would be altered in a different way. Would it also alter my spirit?"

"You have always been my dearest friend, Delenn, but you speak just as much nonsense as ever. There is a world beyond spirits and philosophy, a world we all must live in day after day."

"And do I not live in that world?"

Hallier just shook her head, looking as weary as Delenn herself had felt since all of this had begun. She realized this had been just as great a strain on her friend as it had been on her. The thought made her unreasonably sad. "You live apart from our people," Hallier said. "You live amongst Narn, Centauri, Drazi, even Humans. You eat strange foods and speak strange tongues. And now you've taken a Human as a mate. Can you truly mean to say you still live in the same world I do?"

"It is because of you, and those like you, that what I did was necessary. I hope one day you will see that."

"One day? There are not many remaining to me."

"I will ask the Council for clemency on your behalf. There is still more work in this world for you."

"No. Delenn, don't. Just use the dagger. Please, I beg you, just let it be done." Delenn closed her ears against the desperation she heard in Hallier's voice, and replaced the dagger in her sleeve. She knelt beside the bed and took Hallier's hand.

"You throw my decision in my face, that horrible day I named humanity Anathema. Know this: it would have been too easy after it was all over to let someone else impose a punishment, to give myself over to someone else's judgment. I have spent more than ten years trying to atone for my actions. I must give you the chance to do the same."

Delenn squeezed her hand, this woman she had once thought of as a sister, and left her. John was still sleeping when she returned to their bed. She thought for a moment of waking him, and telling him of her actions before the war, of clearing her conscience once and for all. But no, today was not the day for that, though it would be one day soon, of that she had no doubt. For now, she joined her lover in bed and finally gave herself over to sleep.

xxx

It was good to be back. As soon as they boarded Babylon 5 – to a decided lack of fanfare, for which he had his command staff to thank – a million and one things demanded his immediate attention. The first was to go over the decisions Ivanova had made in his absence.

"Of course, they're all technically your decisions," his XO told him as they made their way through Blue Sector. "You were in your quarters the whole time, puking. Okayed everything I sent your way. Speaking of which, that was a good call, the way you fixed that whole ruckus between the merchants in the Zocalo and EarthGov, when rent went up. A very good call."

Susan had an eyebrow raised, waiting. "Ah, yes. An excellent call. I imagine EarthGov's thinking whoever made that call deserves a raise. Make sure it gets to the right person, will you? Take it out of my personal funds until we get reimbursed."

He always knew when he'd managed to satisfy Ivanova, because she looked just a little less likely to kill the next person who crossed her. They made it to C and C, and John was a bit bemused to see everyone's big, beaming smiles and sharp salutes. "Good to see you back on your feet, sir," Corwin said with a grin. Once he was back at his station, calling an overall station status report up to his screens, he leaned close to Susan. "Does everyone really think I've been in my own quarters this whole time?"

"Pretty much. I guess it's easier to believe that you're an enormous baby who can't deal with a simple case of the flu, than that you'd do something as stupid as take off for more than a week with no notice and certainly no permission." John glared at her, but his heart wasn't in it. She did have a point.

He read the latest status reports for each Sector. Everything was much as it normally was – lots of little flare-ups, but nothing they couldn't handle. "Hope you're feeling better, sir," one of the junior lieutenants whispered as she hurried by his station. John realized he'd been in the middle of stroking his beard as he read when she'd reminded him of Susan's ploy; he wondered if the whiskers weren't one of the big reasons everyone believed the story. He couldn't even remember the last time he hadn't been clean shaven.

Last night on the warship, he'd hunted around for a razor, knowing it was likely to be a fruitless search. When Delenn found out what he was intending, there was no mistaking the disappointment in her eyes. _So she has a thing for beards, does she?_ There were quite a few other things he now knew she had a thing for, most of it stuff he wouldn't have expected two weeks ago.

While he went over attack squadron readiness, John made a list of a few things he needed to grab before tonight. He was going to make sure it was perfect.

xxx

There was still a remnant of a bruise under one eye, but other than that, it was hard to see that Lennier's nose had ever been broken.

"I know you said you wanted to return to your normal duties right away, but I've only scheduled you for two meetings tomorrow." Lennier raised his chin, as if daring her to contradict him. Delenn only smiled.

"Thank you, Lennier." He nodded and gathered up his papers. "And thank you, Lennier, for everything else you've done. I am sorry I had to leave without you."

"It was for the best. By staying on the station, I was able to aid in the ruse that you were still here."

"A ruse for no one's benefit."

Lennier stopped what he was doing and turned his full attention her way. "You could not have known that, Delenn."

"I should have known that the one person I trusted to save my life was the one person who wanted to end it. If I had known, lives could have been spared."

"Their deaths are not your fault. No one wishes to view their friends with suspicion, or believe their faith is misplaced." He rested a hand on hers for scarcely a heartbeat. "It was not your fault."

She turned away, looking over at the shelves against the wall, crystals and candles. It was both strange and a comfort to be back in her own quarters. Delenn wished she could accept his words, so similar to John's the night before. It would be easier to absolve herself of any blame. But like she'd told Hallier, one could not always take the simplest path.

Five coffins in a row. Anyenn, the Trustee. Perhaps even Hallier as well. Was Delenn truly blameless?

"Was there anything else you needed?" Lennier asked. She shook her head, and heard the door cycle open. _You have to tell him, and you have to tell him now._

"Lennier, wait." She turned to see him step dutifully back into the room, face expectant. The dagger had been sent on with Salenn to return to the Council, but Delenn felt as though she held a blade in her hands all the same. "I will be staying in Captain Sheridan's quarters tonight."

There was nothing else that needed to be said. She watched a shadow quickly spread across his features and watched him just as quickly try to hide it, but she thought she would see that shadow for a long time to come. "Did you want to cancel our morning meeting to go over your agenda, then?" There wasn't a single break or tremor in his voice; Delenn heard the pain in it nevertheless.

"No. Meet me at oh nine hundred in the zen garden. I think I would like to start spending more time in the gardens." Lennier nodded and left.

Delenn sat down and put her head in her hands. She sat there for a very long time.

xxx

Candles – check. Lotion – check. Blindfold – check. A teeny tiny lace teddy Delenn was unlikely to wear but what the hell – check. John kept himself from whistling as he finally returned to his quarters at the end of a very long day, but it was a close thing. He planned to stash his purchases – candles in his bedside table drawer, lotion in the head, teddy someplace well-hidden until the time seemed ripe to spring it – and clean up a bit, then call Delenn. She'd hopefully already ate, because he didn't feel like wasting any time. While on the call, he might wince a little bit, put a hand to his neck. When she arrived, she might say, _oh John, let me rub your back_, and what do you know, he'd already have lotion. John smiled to himself and ran his card through the lock; it was a pretty good plan.

The door cycled open, and John stepped inside to find Delenn already inside, sitting on his couch and staring at her hands.

John set the sack on the counter and immediately forgot about it. "Delenn? What's wrong?"

She stood, and he braced himself for tears, for fatigue, for a weariness that stretched down to her soul, but the face she turned his way was peaceful and radiant. She stepped into his arms. "Two weeks ago, if something were wrong I would take a walk through the station, or pray, or dwell on it late at night when I should have been sleeping. However I dealt with it, I would have been alone." She pulled his head down for a kiss, a kiss that was somehow tender, sweet, scorching, and exhilarating all at once. "Now when something's wrong, I can do this, so you see, nothing's wrong at all."

John kissed her again, resolving to kiss her every night like this, kiss her until whatever troubles she had just disappeared. He kissed her, then carried her into the bedroom.


End file.
